


What It Was Before

by orangefriday



Category: Smosh
Genre: Angst, F/M, M/M, OOC, a bit of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-17
Updated: 2011-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:21:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23058406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orangefriday/pseuds/orangefriday
Summary: Ian comes out of a coma caused by a car accident to find himself feeling like a stranger in his own life. Anthony struggles with the idea that his best friend had almost died.
Relationships: Anthony Padilla/Original Female Character(s), Ian Hecox/Anthony Padilla
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

Ian broke a plate.

“I’m okay,” he told Anthony who was there the instant the sound of ceramic glass shattered throughout the quiet home. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about it, man.”

It was suffocating but Anthony refused to let Ian pick up the broken pieces, only swatted his hand away and told Ian to sit at the table. “I’ll get the food. You just wait.”

Ian almost limped into the mess of what used to be a plate but Anthony’s hand gripped his good ankle in midair. It was a hard strong hold. It was times like these that Ian wondered if things were always like this. He wondered if Anthony had always been so angry and frustrated with Ian. He wondered when Anthony would look at him with something other than furrowed brows and sad eyes. 

“Are you sure you can do it this time?” Anthony asked, sitting beside Ian and placing their meals on the table. There was a hint of doubt in Anthony's voice and Ian knew it wasn't intentional but it was bitter to swallow.

“I’m fine, Anthony,” Ian said between gritted teeth. “Just— I can do it.” It was difficult but Ian managed to wrap his fingers around the fork. He lifted it up but the utensil slipped between his rigid fingers, clanging hard against the wood table. Anthony managed to pick it up before it fell to the floor.

“C’mon. I’ll help you.”   
  
"No!' Ian said too sudden and Anthony's hand recoiled from Ian's. "No. I'm good," he said again, softer this time because Ian saw once again the wounded look Anthony had too often. 

Anthony nodded and they continued their meal. Ian could feel Anthony's sideways glance as he tried again and again to put food to his mouth. He had little success though and frowned in resentment at the noodles splattered over the table. It took a lot of restraint for Ian not to burst out in curse words and break yet another plate, picturing it being hurled across the room. 

"Actually, I feel like eating a sandwich instead," Anthony said. He stood up and offered to take Ian's plate. Ian knew what he was doing. Anthony didn't want to see Ian struggle so he tried to do anything he could to avoid it. Anthony always picked things up for Ian, always set the table, always wrote Ian's name when it had to be written, answered the phone and even fed Ian when Ian couldn't even lift his hand. 

And Ian always obliged because he was tired. He was tired of Anthony always asking if he was alright. He was fed up watching Anthony's hand move from his side to Ian's, seemingly confused on whether to help or not. Ian especially hated when Anthony avoided his gaze but when their eyes did meet, it was never anything Ian wanted to see. 

Ian grabbed Anthony's wrist before he could take the plate. "J-Just… let me do this, okay?" Ian sighed when he saw Anthony's bottom lip jut out just slightly. "I can do it, alright?" 

Anthony sat down again, defeated, and watched as Ian tried again to fit his quivering tight fingers around the thin metal of the fork. It rattled against the plate and Ian put his face close, thinking less distance to his mouth would be easier. It was like all of Ian's energy and thoughts were stuck at his elbow and he could not, however hard he sweated and cursed, get his hand to move the way he wanted. It was so frustrating and he could easily picture himself violently killing anything and that is, if his body listened. 

"Shit!" Ian exclaimed, pushing the table away but his wrist impacted at an awkward angle and it only increased the pain Ian was feeling. The table teetered and the plate of noodles spun away and dropped onto the floor. "Fuck!" he shouted, his face red and hot with fists clenched as he roared, "I hate this!" 

"Ian, Ian," Anthony said, all the while holding Ian's wrists and trying to stop him from hurting anything else. "It's okay, it's okay." 

Ian could feel fierce tears welling up in his eyes. "No it's not!" he spat, digging his nails into his palms. "I can't move anything right. It's not fucking okay, alright?" Ian whispered after, a little beat down, "This is so stupid." 

Ian could imagine Anthony's face now: frowning with eyes that would advert from anything that was Ian and shoulders that fell limp and dead. 

"I’ll clean this up and make some sandwiches." 

There were a lot of things Smosh could not do without Ian. And it was the first time Anthony really realized how great of a presence Ian had made in their little world. Sketches with just Anthony didn't cut it and he had tried two weeks after the ordeal with the film crew to re-create something resembling of Smosh with just one half of it. The script was painstakingly hard to write and the actual act of putting it up on tape was even more agonizing. 

Not even halfway through filming, Anthony called it quits. His mind was too cluttered to focus on being funny and entertaining. The camera crew felt awkward without Ian, always asking if he was sure and begging Anthony to just take a break and be with Ian. Plus every time Anthony turned around with a question on the tip of his tongue, Ian wasn't there. 

There were no more Ask Charlie episodes or Lunchtime or Ian is Bored because all of those things required Ian's laughter and ridiculous faces. It required Anthony to laugh and smile and talk to somebody and if it wasn't Ian that was engulfing a tiny taco, it shouldn't be anyone else. 

"At least the Smosh Pit Weekly episodes can still keep running," Mari said one day when Ian was still in that stupid coma. They were in the hallway of the hospital, staring at the matte silver of the elevator doors. "The website should run fine. You've got a lot of people putting up content still. We could even—" 

"Yeah," Anthony interrupted. He wasn't really listening. "That's good, I guess." 

Mari laid a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry." she said, sighing and rubbing her forehead. "This is probably not what you want to be talking about." 

"Thanks," and Anthony tried his hardest to smile. "It'll be alright. Barry will think of something." 

"Yeah, that's good," Mari offered Anthony a smile he didn't see. "Everything's going to be fine," 

When Ian woke up three weeks later, a million thoughts stormed through Anthony's mind. He wanted to hit his best friend and hug him at the same time. He really wanted to yell at him for being stupid and ask him if he was retarded. But what Anthony wanted most of all was to just look into Ian's pale blue eyes and know that he was okay. 

Yet when Anthony managed to get the window of time to himself while Ian's relieved and crying mother let go of her injured son, Anthony knew instantly that this broken Ian wasn't Ian at all. 

"Hey, buddy," Anthony heard himself whisper. He would have spoken louder but Ian looked nauseous and hurt. He was so small with his head wrapped up in white linen and cheeks grazed with burgundy red. "It's Anthony. How are you feeling, man?" Ian just stared back at him, face unmoving and eyes blank. 

He didn't know what came over him but soon, Anthony's eyes stung and his bottom lip quivered out of control. He didn't wait for an answer from Ian, only fled the moment he felt the tears slide down his face. 

Anthony walked fast towards the elevators with his head down and tears obscuring his vision. His shoulder racking violently as he bumped against the cold wall. He couldn't help himself but sob out loud only once, crushing his mouth to his hand to cover it up. 

He had never been so scared in his entire life. 

  


A fractured foot and a broken left arm was what Ian woke up to. Add in some broken ribs and nasty bruises and cuts. Along with a collarbone that could fit a strand of hair if you slipped it in and a concussion that wiped out whole pieces of Ian's life. 

"It's a miracle," they all said but all Ian cared about was why Anthony had walked out on him like he was a diseased carcass. Ian had drawn a blank when he saw Anthony. He couldn't remember his name and it had freaked him out because in the back of his mind, Ian knew Anthony. He just didn’t remember him. 

His mother told him everything. She showed him all the newspaper articles from both the Sacramento Bee and even the L.A. Times along with a handful of online articles she printed off in hopes of cheering Ian up. She seemed proud of him for living, something Ian questioned several times a day as he slowly grew to learn that his body was completely mangled and his mind frayed.

"You went head first against a lamp post after flying fifteen feet across the air," his mother said too animatedly with a smile that both laughed and cried. "I'm so happy you're alright, sweetie." 

“Anthony saved your life,” his sister said, looking up at Anthony who looked uncomfortable standing in the room with the Hecox family. 

Ian’s concussion caused some amensia . He still knew who he was and only vaguely remembered his family. He hadn’t known when his birthday was but when Anthony blurted it out after a few minutes of his struggling to recall, he remembered that he was also twenty-three. The doctor didn’t seem impressed but nonetheless, pumped drugs into him that let the pain float precariously too close but far enough. 

He could hardly move anything and he dreaded the day they would have to take out the catheter. Ian’s head was always splitting apart into bits and pieces and flashes of memories that he could not put together. Sometimes he’d remember days where he and Anthony would be together, lazing in front of the television or laughing at something that took their breaths away for too long. Sometimes he would remember working long hours and staring at a screen with a chin on a sweaty palm. Sometimes when Anthony visited Ian and they talked and looked at each other, Ian could not remember a thing except that he was missing something. 

“What kind of car hit me?” Ian asked one day, trying to smile but his lips were chapped and broken. “Felt like a fire truck.” 

Ian had a vision of Anthony laughing, head back and mouth wide open but Anthony only stared back. “I don’t remember, man.” 

Physical therapy took over his life. Rolling tennis balls and picking up various building blocks and putting them into a bin made Ian’s skin crawl with fire and his jaw ache from all the tense teeth grinding. Learning to stand would be a completely new obstacle once his foot healed. He had visitors he didn’t know, didn’t remember and for every one of them, Ian felt so embarrassed because he wasn’t himself and they knew it too. He wanted out and away from the damn hospital. He wanted out of the never darkness that was lit by dry white lighting and the smell of medicine invading his senses like an unwanted enemy. He hated the paper thin sheets and having to be wheeled around everywhere wearing mismatched socks. His mother had to help him shave and cut his face several times. Anthony was better at it but when he did it, Ian’s skin went clammy and his hands would shake so bad that he would have to hold them still and hope Anthony didn’t notice. Embarrassment and shame slid down his body like disgusting slime and he wanted out so bad. 

Most of all, he wanted the life he dreamt of every night since the accident. 

“How do you feel about filming something for Ian is Bored?” 

“What?” Ian asked. Barry, their manager, and Anthony had given him the break down of what Smosh was. He recalled memories of himself and other people, always with Anthony, acting stupid and having fun. Ian also remembered the long hours of frustrating arguments and conflicts. 

“You know...” Anthony started, camera in hand as he moved the hospital chair to Ian’s bedside. “So the fans can know you’re okay. We haven’t put a new video up for weeks.” 

"Oh, okay then... What should I do?" It was two weeks since he had come out of his coma and just yesterday, the damned therapists had actually forced him to walk with crutches and put pressure on his broken foot. It was painful and difficult, especially since Ian had the hardest time making his feet move forward. He felt like a broken CD, replaying one note over and over again except the sound never left his mind. 

"Just be yourself," Anthony said, then elaborated when he saw Ian's frown. "Show them your casts and we can laugh about how much the hospital sucks. I already took some footage around the hallways."

Ian nodded and tried to pull out from his memories the way he should act for things like this. He tried to remember how to be himself but as the camera's light turned red, he found it hard to know what to do. Anthony would say something to it and point it at Ian and he would just splutter out some half-hearted humour he hoped was funny. 

"Well guys, leave any suggestions on what to do for the next Ian is Bored below. And I'll make sure Ian doesn’t turn into a vegetable." Anthony pointed the camera back to Ian, expectation written all over his face as seconds went by with Ian just staring back at Anthony. "Say bye, Ian." 

"O-Oh..." Ian started, then said hesitantly, "Bye, everyone."

The doctors had said Ian had slept through the worst pain possible for his condition. And his body was healing well and it would be soon when his mind would recover back to its previous state. They said he was remembering and that was good and nothing permanent seemed to be luring within the depths of his brain. 

Sometimes Anthony would spend the night in the chair in Ian's hospital room. He would watch nurses come in every few hours, pressing buttons and tapping IV bags. They would give him a smile and a blanket or two because the hospital always seemed to be freezing. There were some nights he actually went home but he found himself unable to stay still and sleep was futile. 

He should be asleep but every time he closed his eyes, Anthony's mind would wander back to the night Ian was hit. It was terrifying and as Anthony watched Ian sleep, he wished he was the one who had forgotten. 

A call vibrated in his pocket and Anthony was surprised he had forgotten about Makayla. "Hello?" 

"Anthony? Where are you?" She sounded concerned but Anthony heard the accusation in her voice. 

"At the hospital," he sighed, feeling suddenly very tired when he actually had to do something other than watch and think. 

"How's Ian?" she asked, her voice softer now and weary. "You don't have to be there all the time, Anthony." 

"I know," he said. There was a silence on the other line before Anthony heard her sigh. Then Anthony remembered: they were supposed to see each other tonight. He groaned, smacking his head with his free hand. "Shit, I'm sorry, Kay. I forgot. I promise, tomorrow I'll—"

"It's alright, Anthony," she said too calmly. "I get it. It's Ian.

Anthony sighed again, feeling weighted. "Yeah."

"Well, I'll call you tomorrow, okay?" Makayla said after Anthony apologized again. "Love you."

Anthony hesitated. "Yeah, you too."

He hung up, feeling even worse. He put his head in his hands, letting his nails scrape along his scalp. Anthony wanted to hurt something. He wanted to break something but he succumbed to pulling at his hair and breathing through his nose. There were too many things going on and only one thing he had enough mind for.

"Anthony?" a small voice from Ian and Anthony was instantly at his feet and at the side of Ian's bed.

"You okay? Does it hurt? Do you need me to go get a nurse?"

"What time is it?" Ian tried to sit up but his hand landed at a jagged angle and Anthony forced him to lie back down.

"It's almost midnight."

"What?" Ian swatted Anthony's hand away. "What are you still doing here? Go home."

Anthony sat on the bed, trying to feel Ian's head but was continuously knocked away. Ian usually woke up with a fever and Anthony would have to go out and find a nurse to calm it down. He didn't see Ian's angry face before he was pushed off the bed.

"Dude, what the hell?" 

"Get off!"

"Look," Anthony said, trying again to sit on the bed but for a one armed gimp, Ian was strong. "I'm just trying to see if you've got a fever or something--"

"I don't, alright?" Ian was shouting now and Anthony worried some nurses might come in because of the noise. "Back off, you douche!"

"Ian! Just, let me--"

Anthony suddenly found it very funny; every time he got too close, Ian would swing his arm like a disabled helicopter, hitting him in the face or slapping him on the side. Pretty soon, Anthony was laughing, each time trying a different tactic to get close to Ian. He could see Ian's smile in the half-lit room, teeth shining against the navy of the late night.

"Stop it, Anthony!" Ian whined, ducking his head underneath his arm with Anthony's fingers waggled too close. Anthony gave a cry and hoisted himself onto the bed, crashing against Ian's body. He landed on Ian's good side, face knocking into Ian's forehead.

"Ow, motherfu--" but before Ian could finish, Anthony wedged a hand between their foreheads, palm slippery against Ian's hot skin. Anthony could feel their heat and breaths mingling together to create warmth he hadn't felt for a month. It calmed him and he allowed himself to laugh again, liking the feel of familiarity fill up his whole being.

He doesn't remember exactly what happened after that but when they had settled their heaving breaths, they must have fallen asleep. It was the best sleep Anthony had had for weeks.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian comes out of a coma caused by a car accident to find himself feeling like a stranger in his own life. Anthony struggles with the idea that his best friend had almost died

When Ian woke up, he noticed two things. The first was that Anthony’s breath stung his eyes. The second was that his pants were much too tight.

They were lying on their sides and of all mornings, with the sun filtering through dusty blinds and making the white of the hospital look yellow, Ian’s body decided to jump start the day with a huge erection. He groaned, his hand itching to slide down and under the waistband of his pants but Anthony was so close; too close.

Last night had felt like a dream. He hadn’t seen Anthony laugh besides the times his memories sneaked up on him but those things were always blurry and distant; like it had come from another lifetime. Anthony hadn’t laughed nearly as much as he did making the awkward video for Ian is Bored. It made Ian feel normal and less alienated, as if he was the old Ian and not some broken replicate.

He was pulled out of his thoughts when Anthony shifted closer; adjusting his head on the pillow they were sharing. The bed was much too small and Ian found his good side going numb because he was so used to sleeping on his back for the past five weeks. His good right foot lay between Anthony’s shins with his casted arm heavy on his side and he wanted to move it but Ian was too tired to feel pain this early.

Anthony was so close that Ian could see the small lines near his mouth through the morning bleariness. His cheeks were flushed a bright hue of pink and his breaths came out in small puffs that warmed Ian’s cold face. Despite the dark bags under Anthony’s closed eyes, Ian liked this view of Anthony more than the one that was awake and usually too concerned. He found himself unconsciously reaching his own hand into his pants and tentatively stroking the ache. Ian closed his eyes and tried to breathe evenly as he went faster and faster. He was lost and so hard as he curled nearer to Anthony’s warmth.

Ian opened his eyes, catching Anthony’s mouth close and open slowly as he murmured in his sleep. Ian bit his lip and tried to tighten his grip on his own cock, but his fingers shook. Too excited or too weak from his trauma Ian didn’t know but it frustrated him that he couldn’t even jerk himself off.

 _Shit,_ he thought, stilling his spasms and letting go of his cock. He breathed heavily, desire and too hot fury welling up in his entire body. He tried to buck his hips to lessen his problem but it only resulted in shooting pains from his broken bones. Ian squeezed his eyes and fist tight, forcing himself not to scream. He couldn’t even get off by himself. How pathetic was that?

Just then, Anthony’s knuckles moved below him, grazing innocently the exposed skin right above Ian’s waist. He cringed, tension and pleasure stinging him tense. Anthony shifted even closer and now Ian’s hand was caught between his pants and Anthony’s own bulge. Ian sucked in a breath, afraid Anthony would open his eyes and find Ian red-faced and red-handed. He struggled to slide his hand out that shook the whole way even after the waistband of his pants snapped hard against his stomach. But as soon as his hand was out, Anthony pressed closer and now they were cock to cock.

Ian didn’t know what to do. He was too shocked to move but the friction caused by two hard erections sliding even underneath fabric stirred molten in Ian’s stomach. Ian only stared in fascination as Anthony thrust his hips against Ian. He closed his eyes. White ecstasy danced behind his eyes.  
  
He was nervous and so afraid but he couldn’t bring it upon himself to put these warning signs in the forefront of his mind. He had never been so turned on his life and Ian vaguely remembered the times when his ex-girlfriend had given him a handjob or when they had sex. He imagined it was her that was grinding up against him, moving agonizingly slow but when Anthony grunted, Ian could not pretend anymore. He found it so hot that it was Anthony and the wrongness of the situation only heightened the mood of having his frustrated erection being taken care of. He knew he should stop this; end this but pleasure rafted his body away from common sense. So Ian opted to pretend to be asleep and blame his actions as a result of dreams that made him do things unconsciously. If Anthony could do it, he could too.

Anthony picked up momentum and Ian was having the struggle of his life not to scream as Anthony moaned and moved against him faster. Ian was close very soon and when he came, he had to bite hard on his tongue to stop his cry of release. Anthony continued to thrust up against Ian with a razor grip on his side and Ian’s own cock twitched with leftover laces of hunger. Anthony’s face was scrunched up and mouth wide open with breaths that came out quick and hard. Ian felt himself growing hot again despite the recent stickiness that had moistened his pyjamas. He found himself cross eyed and staring longingly at Anthony’s neck that had a slight gleam of sweat.

Suddenly a sharp knock pierced straight through Ian’s blurry passion and sent Anthony sprawling with the sheets to the floor as the other boy jumped about a foot in the air. Ian managed to crush himself face first into the mattress to hide his soiled clothes.

“Good morning... ah, I’m sorry, did I wake you?” A nurse stood at the doorway with his hands in his pockets. He didn’t phase at the fact that Anthony was on the floor or that Ian was in a position that would not be recommended for a patient of his status. The nurse walked in, a small smirk playing at his lips that made Ian want to smack him. Anthony stumbled in the tangled sheets and got out of them with the help of the nurse. Ian still had not moved.

Judging from the looks of it, Anthony’s erection was completely gone and Ian prayed his friend would not recall their little rub off, dismissing it as a wet dream that felt real but could never be possible in real life. Ian bit his lip, the reality of the situation slowly coming to his senses

“Had a good sleep?” the nurse asked after Anthony resigned to the chair in the corner. Ian couldn’t see Anthony from his angle but he found reassurance in thinking Anthony would be tomato faced with his head down and mouth shut tight and as terrified as Ian was. 

“I-I’m good,” Ian managed to say, his words muffled by the pillow. “Slept like a baby.”

“Great.” the nurse took new sheets from the cupboard and fanned it over Ian’s backside. “Try not to move too much or you'll find yourself worse than before. Do you need me to help you onto your back?"

Ian said "No!" the same time Anthony blurted out, "I can do that!"

The nurse didn't find their frantic faces odd and just said, "Alright. That makes things easy for me. I'll check up on you in an hour, Ian."

When he left, Anthony and Ian were silent for a few moments. Ian was still wondering how he should get onto his back on his own with only one side of his body working relatively good. He was so embarrassed and his face started to heat up again and sweat dribbled down his spine. He scrunched his eyes shut when Anthony came near. He could not believe what had just happened.

“S-So… uh, here. I’ll grab your left side,” Anthony said awkwardly and Ian’s eyes flew open the moment fingers wrapped around his side. He gulped, remembering that just moments before, those same fingers had been holding on to him for support as Anthony – Ian blew the thought out of his mind. They had somehow turned Ian onto his back with the blanket conveniently covering the lower half of him. He didn’t notice his face was still crumpled up until Anthony asked if moving him had hurt too much.

“N-Nah,‘s okay.” Ian stammered, avoiding Anthony’s gaze.

It was a miracle because Anthony nodded then offered enthusiastically to go get breakfast, stating that he was too hungry to wait for the nurse. Before Ian could make up an excuse as to why his pants were wet in case Anthony noticed, his friend was out the door.

Anthony could not believe what he had done.

He was walking down the hospital hallway, only minimally aware of his surroundings and mumbling to himself all the while gesturing with his hands to his inner monologue.

How could he have done that? Especially to Ian. He didn’t know what had come over him. Anthony must have gone crazy and Makayla was right. He shouldn’t be there all the time. All this worrying about Ian was making him neglect everything else that was important in his own life and it seems he had been neglecting his own needs. Anthony will admit to caring too much about Ian but ever since the accident, he had become too attached, up to a point of abnormality. He shouldn’t be doing those things to Ian.

He had seen Ian’s hard erection with unfocussed eyes, let his hand graze in that expanse of milky skin, wanting to know where that trail of light brown hair lead to. He had seen through half-closed lids how much Ian wanted release, even in his sleep. So Anthony thought, in between his curiosity and concern, that maybe if he just touched Ian, it would be enough.

But he didn’t know that his own body was already reacting even before they were touching. And it sent a frenzy of thoughts that made no sense but in the haze of sleep and want, made perfect sense. It was fucking hot with Ian whimpering and breathing heavy. And when Ian came, the shudder that hummed between their cocks was amazing. It was all unreal until he was punched right in the gut with the knock on the door.

“God, I’m disgusting,” Anthony said to himself, entering the elevator doors and letting his head knock back against the harsh metal. “Fuck!”

The next time the doors opened, Makayla was there. “Anthony!”

“Oh, hey, Makayla,” Anthony stuttered, got off guard. They embraced and she planted a chaste kiss on his lips. Her fingers found his while she stared up at him with a smile. “You’re here pretty early”

“Well, I was just going up there to surprise Ian,” she explained, “And I was hoping to see you, too.”

Anthony smiled at her, feeling guilty to be with her after the events of the morning. How could he have done that not only to Ian but to Makayla as well? Anthony cringed mentally, heat sweeping the back of his neck.

“Oh yeah,” he said, leading them towards the cafeteria. “I gotta get some breakfast for him. He really hates eating what the nurses give him.”

“I bet,” she laughed, going ahead to pick up a tray. The cafeteria was empty at seven in the morning with only the grim-looking servers behind the counter, filling the pans with food. They offered half-hearted smiles that left Anthony feeling obliged to smile back but his insides were bubbling with too much worry and shame.

He sighed, barely listening as Makayla rambled on about one thing or another. Anthony grabbed a muffin for himself and started to stack on food Ian might want to eat. Ian didn’t eat much with the drugs taking away his appetite and for the fact that he always just wanted to sleep because of therapy. There was a pink-frosted sprinkled donut at the end of the queue and Anthony instantly grabbed for it, smiling to himself.

“So, have you thought about it yet?” Makayla asked voice suddenly humble. Anthony paid for their food, digging deep into his pocket for a couple of dollars. Everything was so damn expensive in hospitals, he thought. “Anthony?”

“Huh? What did you say?” He looked over to her realizing that whatever she was talking about was important. She was frowning and the same guilt washed over him again so he took his free hand and pulled her into another short kiss.

“Don’t change the subject, Ant,” she said now smiling. Makayla lead them to a table where she sat against a window. Her smile slid off her face when Anthony stayed standing. “Sit down.”

“Ian’s food is gunna get cold,” he said, placing the tray down anyway. He wondered what Ian was feeling right now; waking up to find himself in that state and Anthony hadn’t even begun thinking how he himself acted might have affected Ian. _God, I fucked up, big time._

He was close to bashing his head against the table before Makayla cut in, saying, “You should eat the pancakes yourself. And anyway, I can just get him some before we leave.”

“Right.” Anthony slid into the seat across from her, breathing in and wiping his palms against his thighs. He succumbed to eating the food when he saw Makayla’s raised brow.

“Are you okay?” she asked, between bites of her eggs. “You don’t look so hot.”

“I’m fine,” Anthony lied quickly, “Just that I slept in the chair all night.”

“You really should just go home and sleep. I don’t think Ian needs to be babysat anyway.”

Anthony shrugged. “What were you talking about before?”

“Oh, right,” Makayla smiled, leaning in close. “I know you probably didn’t have time to think it over again with what’s going on but...”

“Yeah?” Anthony urged on a little apprehensively.

“Well,” she began and took his hand in hers, “have you thought anymore about the whole moving in thing?”

“Oh...” There had been jokes and hints about moving in together before. Anthony never really took them seriously until Makayla had asked him straight one day. And when she had asked, he had thought about it, even asked Ian about it.

Makayla looked excited and Anthony’s guilt about everything, from ignoring her for the past month to the whole fiasco that very morning, rose up like black smog from a house fire. He managed to spit out a smile, shrugging again. “Uh... I have, sort of—”

“You know what? Never mind.” she let go of his hand and put her chin in her palm. She twirled her fork around her empty plate. “It’s silly of me to ask right now.”

“Kay...”

“No, it’s alright, really.” Anthony began to speak again but she smiled and waved him away, standing to join the small line up for breakfast. “Pancakes for Ian, right?”

“Yeah,” Anthony said, staring at the donut on his tray then picked it up and put it in his mouth. “And lots of syrup.”

_Shit, shit, shit._ Did Anthony notice? Is that why he left the room in such a hurry? Maybe he saw Ian’s pants and fled because it was gross. Or maybe Anthony realized it was Ian who he was rubbing up against. And thought that would be disgusting.

He wasn’t gay and Anthony wasn’t either, at least from what he could remember. Maybe Ian _was_ gay and he had forgotten in between the car hitting him and breaking his head. Or maybe Anthony was too and he had forgotten. Maybe now because Ian was fucked up that Anthony wouldn’t want him anymore.

“Aw, god.” Ian pressed the heel of his hand against his eye, feeling the rough scabs just above his eyebrow and the healed bumps on the side of his temple. He really needed to change into new pants. “I’m such an idiot.”

“Morning, Ian!” a cheery voice said from the doorway. Ian was startled to see a girl with straight brunette locks holding a tray of what looked like pancakes. She sauntered in with Anthony at tow and placed the food on the bedside table. Ian made sure he was well covered, suddenly feeling exposed with this new stranger in the room. His cheeks reddening when Anthony dragged the only chair in the room beside Ian. “Wow, you look good since the last time I saw you.”

“Do you remember Makayla?” Anthony gestured towards the smiling girl and Ian noticed her lean too close to Anthony who looked as uncomfortable as Ian was. She sat down on the chair, sliding her hand down Anthony’s arm. “My girlfriend.”

There was an abrupt stillness in the room and Ian looked from Anthony to Makayla, something caught up in the pit of his stomach. Ian felt betrayed in a way and it confused him. The events of the morning weeding away with Anthony’s girlfriend standing in front of him. Why hadn’t Anthony mentioned his girlfriend before?

“Makayla!” Ian suddenly exclaimed, false happiness dripping off of his face and pushing down his discomfort. He didn’t want to look stupid, not knowing who his best friend’s girlfriend was. “Anthony hasn’t said much about you. But, oh, I remember you.” He waggled a finger at her as she laughed.

“Well, it’s good that you do,” Makayla said with an accusing smile towards her boyfriend. Anthony shrugged and took it upon himself to help Ian sit up. “I’m sorry I didn’t visit earlier. I came last week but Anthony wouldn’t let me see you since you were asleep.”

“Yeah, he can be really anal about some things.” Ian smiled as Makayla talked on, purposely keeping his body as heavy as he could which made the act of sitting up even more difficult for Anthony. He smirked as Anthony’s knuckles turned white, trying to tug the pillow behind Ian in place.

“Why are you so friggin’ fat all of a sudden?” Anthony muttered too quiet for Makayla to hear.

“Why didn’t you tell me you had a girlfriend?” Ian whispered equally quiet and bit his lip because he hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

“I thought you said you remembered her,” Anthony fluffed the pillow too hard, gazing angrily at nothing, “I guess you didn’t hit your fucking head that hard, then.”

 _Bitch_ , Ian thought and drew his attention back to Makayla who had wheeled the table over to Ian with pancakes covered in maple sugar in front of him. She was still talking, telling Ian how glad she was that he was okay and that Anthony spent all his time with Ian while he was in his coma. Ian looked over at Anthony, face red and hands in his pocket.

Ian couldn’t help the uncalled frustration that he felt for Makayla and Anthony. He stared at his pancakes as he half listened to Anthony’s girlfriend and tried to find something in his memory that would put his negative feelings to justice. How could he forget about something like this? But he couldn’t recall one moment with Makayla and it made Ian uneasy. He really didn’t want to be here.

Anthony was staring at somewhere between Ian and Makayla with intense eyes. It wasn’t until Makayla asked if Ian needed help with his food that Anthony snapped out of it, going into nurse-mode. Ian watched as Anthony automatically sat beside Ian on the bed and Ian had to look down to hide his blush and grip the cast of his arm to keep his hand from shaking. Anthony put a piece of pancake to Ian’s mouth and he tentatively ate it, frowning when he felt his face grow hotter.

Ian didn’t notice Makayla’s stare until Anthony offered him another bite of the pancake. She looked puzzled but smiled all the same. “If only Anthony was as nice to me as he is to you, Ian.”

“Oh, no, he’s just really good at following orders,” Ian joked awkwardly and received an unpleasant stare from Anthony.

“He can’t even scratch his own ass,” Anthony combated, shoving the fork into Ian’s mouth.

Ian can sure piss him off sometimes. Even if Anthony knew he didn’t mean it.

Anthony guessed he was relieved that Ian hadn’t bought up the Morning Erection, as he liked to call it, but a part of him was also angry that Ian hadn’t in any way acknowledged the fact that he had been successfully jerked off. A part of Anthony that didn’t make sense at all. And the fact that Ian made Anthony look like a complete ass in front of his own girlfriend just made Anthony want to post something humiliating about Ian on Twitter.

He groaned, running his hands through his hair. He had been going through the footage they recorded the other day for an hour. Anthony kept watching each part with Ian over and over again. He could almost memorize every word that was said, every expression Ian made and every moment that made Anthony’s gut wrench with worry.

Ian was acting and Anthony felt a sort of heaviness settle in him. As if Ian’s off personality was his fault and it was his responsibility. Throughout filming, Anthony had tried to stir some of the old humour they had together but Ian was always so lost. He never took the cues Anthony gave him or responded to the stories he had. And Anthony always had to remind himself that Ian’s mind was crumpled with empty holes in the film of his own life.

But then again, Ian had no problem joking and humiliating Anthony with Makayla, aside from the unspoken awkwardness of the whole situation. Those two were getting along and it disturbed Anthony. He couldn’t remember a time when Ian in the past had wanted anything to do with Makayla. When she had come over, Ian would avoid the two of them or only spoke to them briefly. He had thought maybe Ian just wanted to give them space but when Anthony had confronted Ian, his friend had said quite blatantly that he just didn’t like Makayla.

“What’s wrong with her?” Anthony had asked. They were eating dinner and Anthony now longed for the days when he wasn’t alone at the dinner table.

“Nothing, man” Ian had said, stuffing his face with his burrito. “I just think, I dunno, that she’s not really your type.”

“What the hell do you mean by that?”

“Ugh, Anthony, can we just pretend I never said anything?” Ian wiped some of the sauce from his lips with his hand.

“Dude, you just said you didn’t like her,” Anthony said, crossing his arms. “How can I pretend it doesn’t matter?”

“It doesn’t. If you like her,” Ian said, “who cares what I think?”

They hadn’t spoken about the matter after that until five weeks ago. And five weeks ago, Ian had been unhurt and himself. His emotions were all over the place and Anthony found himself consorting with anger and sadness and pity like a deranged man. Ian had been so awkward during the time with Makayla. He was trying too hard which made Anthony boil with heat whenever Makayla laughed too much at Ian’s lame jokes. Or when Ian would laugh even more when Makayla would say something. Makayla had left too happy, even giving Ian hug. Then there was the fact that he wouldn’t let Anthony change his clothes even when he had been doing this for Ian for the past week. Ian had almost kicked the wind out of Anthony when he had made to grab for Ian’s pants like he did everyday after breakfast. Ian had spluttered something about his therapist insisting he try to do it himself. But Anthony could not see Ian doing anything with a broken arm and foot and limbs that didn’t move normally.

He was so tired. He sighed, bitterness crossing his breath as he watched the Ian on his computer screen. This Ian who had eyes like cold water and sunken cheeks that looked empty even with a smile. With everything happening, Anthony himself felt consumed with worry and guilt, always trying to find the Ian from before. Always looking for the Ian before the broken bones and head trauma; before the three weeks of sleep and the Ian before the night when he almost died.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian comes home from the hospital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sort of a slow, filler chapter this time. More slash soon!

“Barber shop pole.”  
  
“What?” Ian and Anthony were in the car in their garage after a day of signing papers and doctors giving them redundant and specific medical instructions. Including Ian’s mother’s constant suggestion that Ian come live with her but Anthony was able to weed her off, seeing Ian’s tired reluctance at the sentiment.  
  
“Never mind,” Anthony said, releasing Ian’s seat belt. “It’s just some thing we did in our videos.”  
  
“I guess I should watch them, huh?”  
  
Anthony nodded and got out to back of the car to take out the wheelchair. Ian could not walk on his own yet and it was difficult using crutches. His hands would spasm if he clenched anything for too long and his fingers would tense up under stress. Ian’s broken foot was almost healed but his legs never moved right and Anthony saw his best friend struggle with that every day.  
  
“Hey, Anthony?” Ian called, the car door opening.  
  
“Yep?”  
  
Anthony was able to arrange the wheelchair to fit between the car and the wall, wheeling it up next to Ian. Ian had managed to move his legs out of the car, gripping the frame of the car in exhaustion. He gave Ian a look of disapproval but he didn’t reprimand Ian any further, too tired to argue after the long day at the hospital.  
  
“Can I try getting into the chair myself?”  
  
“No way. Look at you, man,” Anthony said, making to lift Ian out of the car but his hands were pushed away, “You’re tired just from that.”  
  
“Yeah, but,” Ian panted, planting his good hand on the arm rest of the wheelchair. “I want to try. Please, Anthony?”  
  
Anthony huffed, staring at Ian’s pleading blue eyes. “Fine,” he gave in, “just don’t hurt yourself, okay?”  
  
“Okay, mom,” Ian teased, smiling. Anthony watched as Ian used his one hand to hoist himself off the seat, back bent as he stood unsteady under the car frame. Anthony was standing behind the wheelchair, itching incredibly bad to grab onto Ian as he swayed and trembled from the pressure of standing up. But Anthony wanted to see Ian do this as much as Ian wanted to succeed, so he gripped hard on the chair handles until his knuckles were tensed white.  
  
Ian was almost there. He had only to twist himself around and sit down. Yet as Ian made to turn, his hand quivered and his fingers lost control. He almost went down face first into the metal of the wheelchair but Anthony was quick to bend over it and catch Ian’s shoulders.  
  
Ian gasped as they dangled over the chair, the wheels rolling forward as Anthony pushed himself over to him. They struggled for a bit to find their footing but eventually Anthony had walked over the chair and was gripping Ian’s shoulder tight, helping him sit back down into the car. Ian’s chest heaved up and down, exhaustion and surprise coming out of every breath and Anthony could see again the frustration welling up beneath his hooded eyes.  
  
“You alright?” Anthony whispered, kneeling down in front of Ian. He could see Ian’s face reddening and traces of angry tears boiling through his lashes.  
  
“I’m fine,” Ian mumbled, kneading his palm to his thigh. Anthony wondered what he should do. He was caught between consoling Ian or letting him try again because he knew Ian would want the latter but he would rather grab Ian and put him to bed where he would be safe.  
  
It was times like this that Anthony wished he knew what to say. Ian was always the one with the jokes and the silly comments that would leave Anthony in a heap of laughter. If there was any problem, Ian would find a way to make it better. It wasn’t always Anthony’s role to fix things. Anthony would just worry until Ian made it okay again.  
  
Anthony resorted to placing an awkward hand on the side of Ian’s neck, wanting to pull him in for reassurance. But Ian turned his head away and pushed Anthony’s hand off.  
  
It ended up with Ian holding onto Anthony as he lowered his hurt friend into the chair. As Anthony wheeled Ian inside their home, the only sounds was the creak of the wheels and Ian’s quiet sniffs.  
  
  
  
He didn’t remember everything, Ian knew that. His memory was tested the moment he entered the house and hardly knew where anything was. He saw the furniture and the rooms and he would experience a dull kind of déjà vu. It was as if everything was a long distance away and Ian’s fingertips were only grazing the surface of everything, if not anything.  
  
The night of the accident was one of the biggest blanks in his web of memories. He would only recall everything through people describing it to him, the articles that had been written and the doctors who talked about his injuries. Anthony never spoke to him about it and Ian felt inside of him that his friend didn’t want to, even if Anthony had been the only person to see all of it firsthand.  
  
Ian was in his room and had been watching Smosh videos for the past hour. As he went through the videos of himself and Anthony, he found himself caught between laughing hysterically and wanting to stop watching all together.  
  
He liked seeing Anthony on screen. He liked listening and seeing themselves banter around each other without a care in the world. Ian could vaguely remember making these videos, being over the top and almost in a way, fighting to be funny. And Ian wanted badly to be like this again.  
  
But every time he would snatch the confidence to be the quirky and funny Ian, one look at Anthony’s still face would bring Ian back to reality. It wasn’t the same anymore.  
  
“Hey Charlie,” Ian said, feeding his guinea pig a pellet as Charlie rested calmly on the table. “You’re still the same, right?”  
  
Charlie only took the pellet, chewing on it frantically. Ian sighed and paused the video he was watching. He couldn’t watch anymore if it meant always feeling this empty pit of desperation every time. He wheeled himself with one arm towards his bed and tentatively stood up. He managed to flop sideways onto his bed with his useless legs dangling over the edge.  
  
Ian heaved a loud groan, dragging his broken left foot atop of the covers. Anthony had gone out to pick up Makayla from work, promising to be back in time for Ian’s bath. Ian’s cheeks reddened at the thought, dreading every night when Anthony would fill the tub with water and ease a naked Ian into it. He assumed that this is what seniors felt every bath time; exposed and helpless.  
  
He hadn’t complained as much when the nurses at the hospital would wash him but it was different with Anthony. There was a level of comfort with being naked in front of his best friend but once Anthony would touch his bare skin, it would grow several notches past awkward. And the first time, he had had to cover himself with a wet towel because when Anthony went to scrub his back, Ian’s body instantly remembered that one incident in the morning.  
  
Thank God Ian was able to convince Anthony that he could wash himself and only needed help in and out of the tub.  
  
Ian heard the garage door opening and the sound of the engine turning off. He grew still, trying to hear if it was only Anthony or Makayla as well.  
  
“Ian?” Anthony called, as if in the short half hour he was gone, Ian could have moved himself anywhere else other than where Anthony had left him last. “Hey, man,” He heard Anthony say at the doorway. “Makayla made some cupcakes. Want some?”  
  
Anthony walked over to where Ian lay, holding a container of cupcakes. They were decorated with blue frosting and white sprinkles; blue being his favourite colour as Ian suddenly remembered.  
  
“Is Makayla here?”  
  
“No, why?” Anthony said, kneeling down and holding out a cupcake for Ian. “I just dropped her off at home. That’s it.” Ian shrugged and tried to grab it but the cupcake was already in front of his mouth. Anthony practically forced Ian to eat it and he mentally sighed to himself wishing Anthony would let him do some things on his own. “I’ll go get the bath ready.”  
  
Ian managed to swallow before Anthony could shove another cupcake in his face. “Can we skip that tonight? Um, I’m really tired.”  
  
Anthony agreed. “You gotta clean your face though.”  
  
Ian nodded and his face heated up as Anthony swiped his fingers over Ian’s mouth, catching left over frosting and sprinkles. He didn’t look at Anthony, too preoccupied with the heat not only spreading over his face but down to his stomach. What was wrong with him?  
  
“I’ll be right back.”  
  
Once Anthony had left the room, Ian buried his face into his pillow. Things were getting out of hand. He knew Anthony was trying to help him but sometimes he could be too much. It was bad enough that every time Ian needed anything, to move or eat or even just turn on the television, Anthony would be there and too close; too eager to help him.  
  
And Ian was developing feelings. Strange and uncomfortable things that made Ian cringe in fear and smile with contentment. He didn’t know whether to yell and scream or just push it down and hope for it to disappear. He was so confused and Ian wanted badly to be certain of something, anything.  
  
“Here.” Anthony was back and took Ian’s face in his hands and started wiping him with the warm wet cloth. “Guess you should shave tomorrow.”  
  
“Right,” Ian said, distracted by Anthony’s concentrated face. The cloth slid around Ian’s cheeks and then softly along his jaw. Ian closed his eyes as Anthony wiped around his forehead. His mind wandered back to that morning in the hospital and how Anthony’s face was so relaxed in his sleep. And then how his eyelids had quivered and his mouth opened as he moved against Ian. Ian, catching himself in his unwanted thoughts, grabbed Anthony’s wrist hard, his fingers singeing when he felt skin. Anthony stopped, slightly startled.  
  
“What?”  
  
Ian blanched, mouth opening and closing. “Uh...” he fumbled, “Charlie! He’s out of his cage.”  
  
Anthony looked behind him. “Oh,” he said, standing up and away from Ian to pick up the rodent. “Gross, he pooped all over your desk.”  
  
Ian forced out a nervous chuckle as Anthony made a face and put Charlie back into his cage. He left the room, holding the brown droplets in the washcloth and complaining. Ian moved onto his back and wiped his face with a shaking sweaty hand.  
  
“What the hell is wrong with me?”  
  
  
It was two in the morning and Anthony could not sleep. He tossed and turned in his bed, trying to stop his racing thoughts. But his mind kept replaying the conversation he had had with Makayla in the car.  
  
“Can I stay over tonight?”  
  
“Tonight?”  
  
Makayla gave him a face as Anthony looked over at her. “Yes, dummy. Tonight.”  
  
“Um,” Anthony began, making a turn. Sacramento was completely dark at seven in the evening and few cars drove past. “I have to take Ian to therapy first thing in the morning, though.”  
  
“So? I’ll come with you guys.”  
  
“Are you sure? It’s pretty boring.” Anthony watched out of the corner of his eye as Makayla fiddled with the radio. “I mean, he can get pretty angry sometimes. And he might feel, I don’t know, weird with you there. Uh, not that I don’t think it’s a good idea. It’s just... y’know...”  
  
Anthony stopped when Makayla turned off the radio. He felt the air tense as she turned her head, looking out the window.  
  
“What about next week? I think Ian’s mom wants him over at her place. His casts are coming off.”  
  
“Sure, whatever,” she said a little bitter, “Next week. And then Ian’s going to need help walking and, oh, he’ll feel weird if I’m there.”  
  
There was a silence as Anthony stopped at a red light. He bit back a frustrated sigh. “What’s the matter?”  
  
“Nothing.”  
  
“Bullshit.” He stepped on the gas too quickly as they lurched forward. “Look, Ian’s just having a rough time and –”  
  
“And you have to play mommy to him like he’s some retard special needs kid.”  
  
“What the _fuck_ , Kay?” He pulled over at the side of the highway and rapidly turned towards Makayla. She was still staring out the window, unfazed by the sudden stop. “What’s your problem?”  
  
“What’s my problem?” Makayla turned to face Anthony, the seatbelt keeping her from biting his head. “My problem is that you’ve completely forgotten about me these past _seven weeks_. That’s a long time, Anthony. It’s always Ian this and Ian that. It was a real bitch even asking you to drive me home tonight.”  
  
“Are you fucking insane?” Anthony’s voice rose as he shut off the engine, the sound from it angering him even more. The keys were thrown harshly into the cup holders between them. “I’m driving you home right now, aren’t I? What the hell do you want?”  
  
“You’re such an asshole. You don’t even know anything.” Makayla made to open the door but Anthony was quick to grab her arm. “Let go of me!”  
  
“No! Are you out of your mind? What’s gotten into you?”  
  
Anthony was seething with anger and it took him the will power of a dam holding onto a raging river not to dig his nails in Makayla’s arm until she bruised. She fought with him, punching him in the chest and slapping him at the neck.  
  
“Let go! You’re hurting me!”  
  
He let her go this time, genuinely afraid that he might actually be. A moment after she was free, Makayla was out the door, walking hurriedly down the side of the black highway.  
  
Anthony cursed and got out of the car too, jogging to catch up with his girlfriend. “Makayla!”  
  
“Go away.”  
  
“Get back in the car! It’s dangerous!” Cars were roaring past them, their headlights granting momentary light to the darkness of the night. “Makayla!”  
  
He grunted and jogged faster. Makayla turned around with her arms crossed and face angry and pale in the cold and Anthony came to a halt. She stayed like that for a while, looking at the ground. “I’m jealous, alright?” she whispered quiet and Anthony almost lost her words to the wind. “Before the accident, you always spent your time doing Smosh and now that Ian’s... like that... you spend even more of your time with him.”  
  
“Makayla... It’s just Ian.”  
  
She hugged herself tighter, wiping away tears. “It’s just Ian. Right, but—” She sighed and didn’t say anything more on the matter. She slapped her hands to her sides. “I’m just so... angry. And I know, it’s selfish. But I can’t stop that.”  
  
Anthony felt so guilty and even as he took her into his arms, promising things would be better, his mind had circled back to Ian who was alone at home with broken bones and memories. And even when he dropped her off, Makayla sniffling and smiling through the tears with a box of cupcakes in her hands, he wanted badly to go home and make sure Ian was okay.  
  
He threw the covers away from his body, feeling constricted all the while thinking back to everything that had happened in the past month and a half. He didn’t like being away from Ian too long and he was always keeping an ear and an eye out for him, afraid that in an instant, his friend would be on the ground again, bloodied and not breathing.  
  
Anthony clenched his eyes shut, trying frantically to get rid of the images in his mind. But it was hard to close your eyes to a memory.  
  
He gave up and sat on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. Was this what happens when you almost lose somebody? What happens if you actually do? Anthony could not let himself think any further.  
  
Maybe he’ll just check up on Ian and make sure everything was okay. Sometimes Ian would toss in his sleep and wake up in a way that would hurt his back all day. Anthony could move Ian to a better position.  
  
He walked slowly out of this room, feeling the walls as he came to Ian’s door. The streetlight shadowed his body over the washed white of the door. He quietly turned the knob and snaked into the room, careful that the door didn’t creak.  
  
Ian was lying on his back, quiet snores emitting around the room. His hair was fluffed and messy with the side of Ian’s face buried in the pale blue pillows. Anthony hesitated, seeing that Ian was fine but he sat onto the foot of the bed anyway. It was another few moments of staring at Ian before Anthony completely laid himself beside his sleeping friend.  
  
He told himself he was only going to be there for a minute in case Ian decided to wake up. He told himself that again after ten minutes and even moved the hair covering Ian’s forehead. Anthony let his eyes close, telling himself once again, he would wake up in a few minutes and go back to his own bed.  
  
  
  
_Not this again,_ was the first thought that filtered through Ian’s head when he woke up next to Anthony. Fortunately, Ian was able to gather his senses together and stop himself from doing anything he would regret. Seeing Anthony beside him had scared him enough that he was wide awake now.  
  
Ian didn’t know what to make of this. Anthony was always where he was these days. At the hospital, he would never fail to show up every day and stay for hours, giving Ian maybe half a day of Anthony-free time. And now that they were living at home, Anthony was there all the time.  
  
Ian wondered if Anthony had any other friends to be with, ones that Ian didn’t know and would only want to see Anthony. But as he thought about it more, going through faces of the people he remembered, Ian did not have one friend that wasn’t friends with Anthony as well. They had all visited, threw a sort of impromptu party the day after Ian was out of the hospital. It was nice to see everyone smiling and happy, drinking and talking about nonsense. They had all tried to make Ian feel ‘normal’; telling stories and jokes that only their group would know. For a while, it had warmed Ian that he had so many friends who he loved and cared about, but after the bliss of the party and he and Anthony were alone, the empty lost feeling of being a stranger had crashed down onto him again.  
  
He appreciated Anthony’s presence and Ian knew if it was not for his best friend who did everything for him willingly, Ian would not be as well as he is now. Anthony had given Ian a chance at fitting back into his life.  
  
But sometimes Ian would wonder if Anthony were less protective, less worried and gave Ian room to breathe, this unspoken tension between them would dissipate. And then truly, Ian could become himself, or at least the person he thought he should be.  
  
“Hey, you’re awake,” Anthony said groggily, startling Ian out of his thoughts. He rolled onto his back and rubbed the sleep out his eyes. Ian watched as Anthony stretched his back like a slow cat and he gulped, conflicting feelings tackling his body. Anthony kept on stretching and yawning and there was no blanket to cover him. He fought a blush from creeping up his neck by turning his head to the other side and away from Anthony’s writhing body.  
  
“Uh, yeah...” Ian managed to say, pulling together the blankets around him. What was Anthony doing here?  
  
Anthony yawned again, “I couldn’t sleep and went to check up on you.”  
  
“Oh...” Ian said with fidgeting fingers. This was very awkward and Anthony seemed to have finally stilled his distracting body movements. A terse silenced followed and then Ian whipped his head around with accusing eyes. “Wait, why the hell are you in my bed?”  
  
He narrowed his eyes and Anthony furrowed his brows before shrugging nonchalantly. “Uh... I just fell asleep, I guess.”  
  
“Right...” Ian was a little sceptical, of what he wasn’t quite sure. “Did we have sleepovers in each other’s beds before or something?”  
  
“No, of course not,” Anthony scoffed, “I was just tired.”  
  
“Thought you said you couldn’t sleep.”  
  
“Well, I changed my mind.”  
  
“Yeah, this isn’t weird at all,” Ian said sarcastically. “Are you lonely, Anthony, is that why? Maybe you need Makayla here more often to, yknow...” Ian waggled his eyebrows suggestively but Anthony only rolled his eyes, thumping him on the head.  
  
“Shut up.”  
  
Ian smiled, feeling like the awkward tension was draining away. The two of them talked for a bit about things that Ian wouldn’t be able to remember in a few days. Just unimportant things that filled Ian with warmth and calmed his yearning for normalcy.  
  
“You know, I kind of lied about remembering Makayla,” Ian bought up out of the blue after deciding what they would eat for lunch that day. They would also see if Ian wanted to film some Lunchtime if he wasn’t too tired from therapy. “I didn’t want to look like an idiot.” Ian shrugged. “Truth is, I can’t remember a thing about her.”  
  
“Oh?” was all Anthony said and Ian looked over at him, expecting a louder response. Anthony was staring at the ceiling, expression unreadable. They grew quiet while Ian racked his brain for any memories of the girl.  
  
“Yeah, nothing,” Ian said after a few moments. “Sorry, man.”  
  
He frowned at this. Why couldn’t he remember anything about Makayla? How did the two meet? How long have they been together? Were they just dating or were they something serious? These and many other thoughts put a knot in Ian’s stomach and something like dread pushed at his throat.  
  
“It’s alright,” Anthony sat up. “The doc said you’re still going to have trouble remembering things.”  
  
“But I’d like to think I would remember my best friend’s _girlfriend_ , Anthony.” Ian made to sit up, only succeeding in resting on his good elbow. He saw Anthony shrug and slump forward.  
  
“Whatever, it’s no big deal.”  
  
Ian felt bad and it seemed like Anthony was upset that he didn’t remember Makayla. “Why don’t we ask her to have lunch with us today? Maybe you two can tell me how you guys met?”  
  
Anthony didn’t answer him right away. “Nah, that’s not a good idea.”  
  
“Why not?”  
  
“Just leave it, Ian. Alright?” Anthony hopped off the bed. He stopped at the doorway and turned around with an unsteady hand on the door. Anthony stared at him heavily and opened his mouth to say something but closed it and averted his gaze.  
  
Ian fell back into his pillow when Anthony left, clenching his fist and staring at the ceiling in complete loss.  
  
He thought maybe he said something wrong and now Anthony was going to ignore him. But then he heard the sound of running water in the tub and Anthony’s voice asking him where his damn razor was.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remembering and acknowleding are two different things.

Anthony’s overnight stays in Ian’s bed had become a frequent thing up to a point where one rainy, cold, night he slipped into the covers even before Ian had the chance to turn off the lights.  
  
Ian didn’t mind, even banished the initial embarrassment of sleeping next to his male best friend. Every night he watched Anthony’s chest rise and fall as he fell to dreams and hearing another breath beside him lulled Ian to sleep better than a dark empty room. If anyone asked, it was the unspoken excuse that Ian was hurt and it was just more convenient for his caretaker to be closer in the night.  
  
There would be small touches. Toes grazing shins or fingers tickling sides where fabric would slide open to reveal bare skin. Sometimes these touches would last all night and Ian would wake up with an elbow trapped under his arm or a face so close, he could smell what Anthony was; warm skin and milk with the scent of California wet sand.  
  
And then the dreams began. It used to be just Ian and Anthony together, doing ordinary things. But then it turned into Ian watching Anthony, wanting Anthony and then touching Anthony.  
  
They became more vivid every time and Ian feared that one of these nights, he would cry Anthony’s name out loud and wake up to find himself already coming, repeating the morning at the hospital. It wasn’t a gradual realization that Anthony was Ian’s wet dream but something that struck him full force. He had fallen asleep and dreamed and he dreamed wild colours, burning sensations and Anthony doing things to him that made his eyes roll back and his skin heat and drench itself with hot sweat.  
  
He had woken up, gulping air like he had been under water the whole night. His hair stuck to his neck and his forehead and there was a hard thumping all throughout his body as it reverberated with intense desire.  
  
Then he had remembered, probably the most important thing about himself. And Ian had to fight himself not to admit it. He didn’t want to but as the memories and feelings flooded into his consciousness, it got harder and harder to deny.  
  
Ian had felt breathless then, like everything had crashed down and he had fallen faster and was now buried deep underneath it all. He didn’t know what to do and he didn’t know why he had forgotten something so profound, so important in his life.  
  
It scared him so much.  
  
These feelings had always been there, as he realized after, going through everything that was Anthony in his mind. They hadn’t made sense at first to Ian and he had dismissed them as friendship that was incredibly deep and strong. But now when Ian wakes every night with an itch etched into every bone of his body, he knew it was much more than a love between best friends.  
  
So he kept it secret; kept it hidden like he had before his mind had been wiped away and slowly pieced together. He would take this guilty and _disgusting_ feeling inside of him and never let it go.  
  
With all these racing, forbidden thoughts placed in front of him like a disguised harmless pathway to hell, Anthony was even farther away. Ian didn’t dare to press Anthony further about what happened the night of the accident or his relationship with Makayla. And as he turned his back to a sleeping Anthony, Ian knew he had forgotten these things for a reason.  
  
  
  
The first time Ian was able to walk ten steps without his crutches, he was ecstatic. He wanted to jump up and shout, spin in a circle and hug Anthony who was clapping his hands as if Ian had performed an extraordinary stunt.  
  
“Caught it all on tape, boys,” Ian’s therapist said as the two best friends gave each other high fives. Ian teetered a little sideways, his body weary from the exercise and Anthony lent him a shoulder to lean on. These times of physical contact always made Ian shake even more.  
  
It had been two weeks since Ian had left the hospital. Every other day he would go in for physical therapy, work his arms and fingers, stand and sit and today, he walked, all on his own.  
  
“That was amazing,” Anthony breathed, smiling and ruffling Ian’s hair. Ian let out a whoop, so excited that he could walk again after weeks of struggling to even move this foot forward. The cast on his arm and leg had been taken off and he no longer had to suffer from the itch and heat from a limb being encrusted in plaster. He still had problems holding onto things but he was many times better than he was two weeks ago. “Another week and you won’t need that damn wheelchair anymore.”  
  
“Yeah, can’t wait,” Ian said, turning so that they were face to face and Ian’s face instantly softened being so close. He was breathing hard, chest heaving as eventually Anthony turned away, guiding him to a seat. Ten steps looked easy but for Ian whose body struggled with the simplest of tasks, ten steps was a testament of great accomplishment.  
  
“You did very good today, Ian,” Dr. Ma said, handing Anthony their camcorder. “I’m really happy with what you’ve been able to do so far. Next week, we can work on your walking again.”  
  
Ian nodded, still breathless from the exercise. “Thanks, doc.”  
  
Dr. Ma smiled, patting Ian cheerfully on the back. He helped Ian back into his wheelchair and led the two friends to the doors of the hospital.  
  
“Alright, you get lots of rest. I’ll see you two on Monday.”  
  
They came to the hospital parking lot and it was cold for a March day. The rows of cars worried Ian just a little; thinking that with so many cars, it should be hell in the hospital.  
  
“When are you meeting Makayla again?” Ian asked. He was sombre now that Anthony would be leaving him for the day to the care of his mother. He still wondered what was going on between Makayla and Anthony but he had decided if Anthony wanted to talk about it, he would eventually.   
  
“I’m just going to drop you off and then I’ll go get her,” Anthony said. He sped up towards a speed bump but swerved the chair around just in time, laughing when Ian cried in mock terror.  
  
“Dude, can’t I just stay at home alone? My mom’s going to be a pain in the ass.”  
  
“It’s only for a few hours. Deal with it.”  
  
Ian huffed, crossing his arms. “You know, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but she’s worse than you.”  
  
“Too bad, bitch,” Anthony laughed, stopping abruptly in front of his car. “At least she’s not staying overnight.”  
  
“Thank baby Jesus,” Ian cried, looking up at the sky with his hands in the air. Ian was able to set himself into the car and had little trouble putting on his seat belt. Anthony came into the car, his cell phone in his hands.  
  
“Makayla just texted me,” Anthony said, clicking his phone to stand by and starting the car. “She’s at our house already.”  
  
Ian’s good mood deflated a bit and he forced a teasing smile. “Sounds a little desperate, man. Maybe you should be worried.”  
  
Anthony shrugged and backed out of their spot.  
  
“Where are you two going?” Ian asked, a little curious. He was trying to turn on the camera but he was having trouble pressing the tiny buttons. His hand shook and he stopped it by pulling hard at his hair out of frustration and nervousness.  
  
“The River Walk,” Anthony replied, “And stop that.” He grabbed Ian’s hand out of his hair and clicked in disappointment.   
  
Ian frowned, giving up on the camera and resting back heavily in the seat. He watched for a few moments as they drove down the road, trees splintering the in-between winter and spring light. Ian sneaked small glances at Anthony. He was driving with a too concentrated face and a red hue stained his cheeks from the chilly air. His hair was messier today more than usual because Anthony had had no time to shower since they both had woken up late. And Ian wanted badly to feel Anthony’s hair between his fingertips, roll the soft tuffs of brown in clumps and wondered if it would feel like velvet. Ian turned his gaze back to scenery outside, trying hard to direct his thoughts elsewhere.  
  
But a nagging pecked at his throat and before he could think, Ian had said it, “Do you love her?”  
  
Ian scrunched his eyes closed, regret instantly creeping up his face. He didn’t want to know, he had told himself over and over again but at the same time, wondered countless times this question and many more. He cursed inside and unrealistically hoped Anthony hadn’t heard the question even if the car was silent save for the rumbling of the road and the engine.  
  
Anthony didn’t answer but Ian knew he had heard. He bit his lip as he opened one eye to look at Anthony. His smile had slipped off his face and he now had that same distant look that Ian could not figure out.  
  
Then, “I do...” Anthony said, turning to give Ian a classic goofy face, “love your mom!”  
  
Ian opened both eyes and suddenly burst into laughter too loud out of nervousness. The weighted anxiety lifted off of him a little when Anthony looked over at him, eyes sparkling with a small smile.  
  
Ian didn’t need to know, not right now. He was fine being ignorant and a small part of himself was glad his memory was unclear and damaged because another part within knew knowing was probably worse.  
  
  
  
“I’m sorry again about last week,” she said, leaning into him as they walked hand in hand down the Sacramento River Walk. Tourists were few at that time of year and the river glistening to their right made it the perfect quiet afternoon stroll.  
  
“No, it’s alright.” Anthony pulled her in close as a breeze drifted lazily by. “Are you warm enough?”  
  
Makayla nodded and gave him a peck on the cheek. She grazed a hand along his chin and took his lips into a kiss. Anthony took a second to look at her; freckled cheeks and long dark lashes. He kissed her back and this was probably the first time they had in weeks. It was no wonder she had been angry at him and Anthony wondered why he hadn’t missed this as much as her.  
  
They pulled away and began walking again. They passed food stands and ate, talked about things like work, school and parents and just enjoyed each other’s company. The topic of Ian was carefully avoided and Anthony had to stop himself several times seeing that mostly anything he talked about involved his friend. It ended up with Makayla doing most of it.  
  
This was comfortable. Anthony and Makayla fit well together and it felt familiar to wrap an arm around her thin shoulders. It was good to bump elbows and tease each other; laugh and just do mushy couple things together. But it wasn’t the same as two months ago when all Anthony wanted was to see her and touch her and be with her.  
  
Now as they sat down on a bench with Makayla’s head on his shoulder and the smell of sweetness wafting into his nose, Anthony could not help thinking whether he should buy a corndog for Ian or not. He didn’t think Ian would like the noodles his mom was going to cook. He usually liked things that didn’t need utensils.  
  
Anthony hadn’t thought spending a few hours with his mother could be that bad. But when Anthony had gone to say good-bye, Ian had looked like somebody had kicked him. He almost wanted to laugh at how melodramatic Ian was.  
  
“What are you thinking about?” Makayla asked, taking him out of his reverie.  
  
Anthony laughed in his head, turning red outwardly, lying, “Uh... just about how nice this is.” He hoped this was what she wanted to hear.  
  
“This is, isn’t it?” she sighed, letting her lips flutter against his neck. Anthony fought the reflex to flinch, weird discomfort spreading down his spine. “I was thinking about something that would be even better.”  
  
“Oh?” he whispered, closing his eyes as she kissed his neck.  
  
“Mmm-hmm.”  
  
“What’s that?” he had hardly been able to say that, too distracted by what Makayla was doing with her hands. He was only minimally aware of the many people around them. She slipped her fingers beneath his thigh, slithering close to his crotch.  
  
“Living together,” she whispered slow, pressing hard at the centre of his pants. “Sleeping next to each other, every night.” She placed a kiss on the base of his neck. “Waking up with you.” He stifled a gasped and pushed her hand away, moving sideways so that there was distance between them again. “What is it?” She looked surprised and a bit angry.  
  
“Not out here!” Anthony whispered furiously, crossing his legs in embarrassment. Makayla laughed and leant her body back against him and kissing him on the mouth. Anthony looked around to make sure no one had seen but there weren’t many people to begin with.  
  
“Since when had that stopped us?” She grinned knowingly and Anthony was vaguely reminded of several instances where they had done things out in public and it had sent a thrill down and straight into his cock. But today, it wasn’t the same and he found himself not really wanting any of it. “I thought of something: I could move in with you and Ian.”  
  
“W-What?” Anthony looked out at the blue river, her words registering slowly.  
  
“We don’t have to go out and find a completely different place,” she continued, “I can just move in with you and that way, you can keep on doing your YouTube stuff with Ian. How’s that going anyway?”  
  
“Fine,” he said absentmindedly. They had put up a few vlogs but not a real Friday video yet. “Wait? Move in with me and Ian?”  
  
“Yeah and... It’s kind of why I came over to your house today,” she said, sheepishly. Makayla took his hand in hers. “While you were speaking with Mrs. H, I talked to—”  
  
“You talked to Ian?” Anthony turned back to her. The haze from their make-out session disappearing fast. “What did you say to him?”  
  
“I just asked him what he thought about it, that’s all.” Makayla looked taken aback. It wasn’t a big deal for her but this was something Anthony needed to avoid with Ian.  
  
“What the hell?” Anthony spat, sudden fury flashing in his face. His mind went back to the night of the accident. “What are you doing? Didn’t you think to see if I agreed before getting Ian into this?”  
  
“Well, it’s quite obvious the reason you can’t agree is _because_ of Ian.” Makayla gripped his hand tight and he knew she was trying to bite back her own frustration.  
  
“It’s not his fault,” he said and took his hand away from hers.  
  
“What’s the matter with you?” Makayla questioned, trying to keep her voice down, her brows furrowed and mouth askew with confused anger. “Why is it so bad that I asked Ian? It’s not like I’m saying this is for real.”  
  
He wanted to shout at her; tell her about the night of the accident. How Ian had been hurt and angry and—  
  
Anthony shook his head, the irrational fear of it happening again threatening his thoughts.  
  
“Never mind,” he said, settling to breathe through his teeth instead of doing anything else. “It doesn’t matter. You already did it.”  
  
He didn’t have to look at Makayla to know that she was probably going to spit poison at him. Living together was something both light and heavy for them. It was light for Makayla because it was something natural for her. It was something you did eventually with the person you love. For Anthony, it was something heavy because he had so many things to leave behind.  
  
“God, Anthony, it’s _always_ about Ian!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up.  
  
He didn’t acknowledge her, too wound up in his own thoughts, “You shouldn’t have said anything. You know how he feels about you.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“He might not remember it, but you said no to him.”  
  
She shook her head, quick. “I _never_ said that.”  
  
“You _did,_ Makayla. Don’t play dumb,” Anthony accused, “He liked you and that’s why I never wanted to tell him about us living together. It was bad enough I didn’t even notice he liked you.”  
  
“You’ve got it all wrong,” she said firmly and before Anthony could retort, she said, “He said no to _me._ ”  
  
Anthony stopped, his reasoning spinning away from him. What did she mean?  
  
Makayla said again, “ _I_ asked _him_. He said no.” She almost sneered at him. “And you can’t live with your best friend forever, Ant.”  
  
“But... but,” Anthony faltered, “I assumed Ian and you had—“  
  
“You really don’t know?” she breathed, running a hand through her hair.  
  
“That he said no?” There was a stirring of a vision; Ian standing on the edge of the sidewalk, mouth open with words escaping that burned Anthony’s veins. The ultramarine of his eyes turning dark.  
  
“No,” she said firmly. She was calm now as if explaining something to a child. “Anthony, he _never_ liked me.”  
  
“He did,” Anthony denied, “That’s why he was always avoiding us.”  
  
Makayla’s anger seemed to have died. Seeing his confusion, she quietly explained, “I thought that too but... I had a different feeling. Even before we started dating.”  
  
Anthony looked down at her. “What ‘feeling’?” he asked when she didn’t elaborate, “You’re making it sound like something really fucked up.”  
  
Makayla bit her lip and fiddled with her bracelet. She looked up at him with reluctance and eyes that pleaded for Anthony to know and inside, he had a glimmer of what she might have meant.  
  
So he urged her to say something, knowing what she might be thinking but hoping she would say another. “I know him, Kay. I know how he gets when he’s jealous.”  
  
“Yeah, I’m sure he was,” She almost scoffed at him, but went back to looking at him with a sigh. “But he wasn’t jealous of you.”   
  
Anthony felt a kind of nipping at the tail of his mind. “What are you trying to say?”  
  
“I don’t know, Anthony. You figure it out,” Makayla said, standing up and facing him with a look between hurt and weary acceptance. “Just the way he looks at you. It’s not that hard to notice. And now, you—” She choked, adverting her eyes but then settled to look straight into his own angry, puzzled ones. “A lot of things have changed... but , Anthony, I still love you. And...” she stuttered, wiping the dewy shine forming in her blue eyes. The sun met with the river and its light created an orange gleam over everything.  
  
Anthony looked up at her and stood, taking her into his arms and slipping a hand through her smooth hair.  
  
“And I really wish that you did too,” she whispered.  
  
  
There was a sort of sick twisting in his stomach.  
  
Makayla and Anthony – living together. He would have to see them every day. He would have to watch them fall in love and love each other. And he would have to sleep alone in his bed with an icy, bare side next to him. Ian shook his head. Anthony shouldn’t be sleeping next to him in the first place.  
  
“Honey, I’m leaving now,” Ian’s mom called from the hallway. She appeared at the door of Ian’s room. “Anthony’s back. He’s just going to drive me home.”  
  
“Okay, Mom,” he answered, covering his face with the covers. She sat down beside him, tugging the blanket away from him with strength that surprised Ian every time. She smiled at him and ran a hand over his forehead.  
  
“Go eat some of the noodles I cooked, okay?” Ian’s mom bent down and placed a sloppy kiss on his cheek. He cringed and complained, wiping his face with a scrunched up disgusted look. Ian heaved at the thought of noodles and how the long pasta would be writhing inside of him, stirring up the acid to burn his insides. “C’mon, big boy.” She gripped his shoulders and pulled him up easily. Sometimes moms could be frightening.  
  
“Okay, okay, I’m up,” Ian said, taking his mom’s hands gently away from him. He was able to sit back in his wheelchair on his own and followed his mother out of his room. She said her good-nights and scolded him for not being willing to visit her more often. She then gestured to the food and plates neatly arranged on the kitchen counter.  
  
She left him with another embarrassing kiss and a wave, walking out the front door where Anthony’s car lit up the twilight outside.  
  
Ian growled as his stomach rumbled. He succumbed to trying to feed himself, something he would not have been able to do if he weren’t alone. It would also be his only opportunity to practice walking by himself as well without worried eyes and hands five inches away everywhere he went.  
  
Makayla had asked him what he thought about her living with the boys. His immediate thought was to shout at her face and tell her she could go fuck herself. It was something that almost overcame his rational thinking and also an old feeling as Ian realized. It had come out of some where in the depths of his hidden memories.  
  
These couple of days, he had been remembering more than usual.  
  
But Ian wasn’t like he was before, so he put a show in smiling and shrugging, opting to put all responsibility to Anthony. He had told her he was fine with whatever Anthony decided. Another person in the house wasn’t a big deal, he had reassured her.  
  
Ian wheeled himself to the counter, placing a sticky hot hand on the cold surface. He heaved himself up and his legs almost gave in beneath but he managed to slam another hand on the counter to steady himself. His arms shook and he felt like he had been lifting two hundred pound weights, except it was his useless body that he was trying to hold up.  
  
“Stupid Anthony,” Ian grunted, holding a breath as he put one foot forward. The second step was followed by a curse at his best friend’s lack of interest in talking to Ian about anything important. He made it to the plate of food eventually, sweat swimming in the roots of his hair.  
  
“Fuck you,” he spat, glaring at the noodles.  
  
Ian took the fork in his hand, gripping hard and he almost smiled when he was able to lift it a few inches off the table. But he still had to carry the plate to the dining table and he turned around, looking at the ten feet between here and there. It was a long way to go for Ian’s rattled and exhausted body.  
  
His mother would probably rage and carry him with her sudden adrenaline back to his wheelchair if she saw Ian right now; huffing and puffing and sweating like he had run a marathon.  
  
But he wanted to do this. Because it let him do something with himself instead of staring at the wall and eating his food, thinking about life with Makayla waking up next to Anthony.  
  
Ian bit his lip, grabbing the plate too fast out of unprecedented anger and watching it shake in his hands before it fell to pieces at his bare feet. The plate left triangular spangled porcelain and greasy noodles sliding across the tiled floor.  
  
Ian had broken his plate.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Losing something hurts and sometimes it's devastating. When it's found, it's a relief.

Anthony stayed longer than he should have in the garage. Ian would be waiting for him and the drive between Mrs. Hecox’s house and theirs was less than a minute away.  
  
He gripped the steering wheel tight; his knuckles paling as the leather squeaked against the friction. Staring down at his hands, he let out a breath that only gave him momentary release from the weight that slumped his shoulders. So much had happened in the short afternoon and Anthony’s mind was reeling.  
  
"You think about this, Anthony," she had said, releasing the seat belt. Makayla avoided his eyes, sniffing and Anthony knew he should comfort her but it wasn't what he wanted to do or had to. It was just something expected. "You think about us."  
  
And he had nodded, almost leaned in to kiss her good-bye but he stopped himself. This wasn't something he had to do anymore either.  
  
Anthony shook his head. It wasn’t true, he told himself again and again, running a hand over his tired face. Makayla was wrong. It was because Ian was hurt and needed Anthony more than ever. That was all it was these past three months. She didn’t know what she was talking about. They were best friends; brothers born with different blood but with lives that would always be a part of the other. That was all they were and ever would be. Nothing more and nothing less.  
  
But as his emotions scraped hard to reach the surface, Anthony couldn’t help but want and let himself dream of that small leeway of possibility. It took a multitude of self-convincing and self-restrain when every little thing, to his own disturbed mind, lead to wishful thinking.  
  
“Fuck it,” he whispered violently to himself, opening the car door and entering the house. He would see Ian and he would forget about it. Anthony walked down the hallway in long strides, determination written in his veins. He would push it down and bury it until he would forget again. It was what he had told himself on the drive home. It was what he had been doing for the longest time up to a point where he believed it as fact.  
  
He had slipped once. He had let himself go at that moment in the hospital and even then, he had been able to pass it off as an unconscious decision, driven by half-asleep irrational thinking. It didn’t have to mean anything.  
  
Anthony stopped before entering the kitchen, taking in a shaky breath and placing his hands at his sides. He would be ready to face Ian again no differently then he would any day. He would restrain himself, forget and allow normalcy to trickle back between them.  
  
Yet as he stepped into the yellow light of their living room, Anthony’s chest stumbled into panic when he saw the empty wheelchair, heard the sound of quick forced breaths and then porcelain hitting the floor. His feet moved even before he could tell them to.  
  
“I’m okay,” Ian told Anthony, panting and bending to pick up the pieces but Anthony stopped him with two hands on both shoulders. He looked into Ian’s eyes and saw redness painted on the edges of exhaustion. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about it, man.”  
  
“Just... Just go sit down, okay?” he instructed and forced Ian to leave the small kitchen. Ian shouldn’t be walking around without crutches or supervision. It was only been this morning that he had done it for the very first time. But Anthony didn’t reprimand him, knowing it would fall to unhearing ears. “I’ll get the food. You just wait.”  
  
Ian’s unsteady foot almost landed on a piece of glass but Anthony’s reflexes were faster, gripping tight around Ian’s ankle and letting out a relieved breath when he only teetered a little, managing to avoid getting hurt. He glanced up at Ian and couldn’t help but give him a warning look, disapproval at the whole predicament. It would have been all so easy if he could just pick Ian up and out of danger. Keep him out of harm’s way until Anthony felt satisfied.  
  
He cleaned up the mess and sat beside Ian with their plates of noodles, feeling the need to be quiet and careful. The air was odd. “Are you sure you can do it this time?” Anthony questioned, trying to tease out the heavy mood. Ian had his fists clenched in front of him, his gaze hard on the table.  
  
“I’m fine, Anthony,” he almost growled and went to pick up his fork. It shook dangerous and loose in his hand. Anthony hated watching Ian like this, watching him struggle. His hand itched to take Ian’s and hold it still; stop the agitating scene before him. The fork slipped between tight fingers and almost fell to the floor but Anthony caught it.  
  
“C’mon. I’ll help you,” Anthony offered, holding the fork for Ian. But he was refused with ferocity and Anthony was defeated again to a nod. There were times like these since Ian had come home from the hospital. It would start with Ian trying and trying until he got angry, flustered and agitated. And Anthony would try his best to coax Ian back out of his negativity with a joke or calming encouragement. Therapy was where he was most out of control and where Anthony would have to stand on the sidelines, feeling helpless and restricted as Ian was asked to do the simplest tasks over and over again with little results.  
  
That was why Anthony had been so happy this morning, watching Ian finally do something all on his own and laugh genuinely for the first time in weeks. But that morning had felt like a life time ago and as Anthony twirled his own food around his fork, he gazed sadly at the dark and looming Ian now, attempting badly to eat. It should be easier now but Ian’s body racked with tremors more than usual, as if all those weeks of therapy had never happened. It worried Anthony.  
  
He couldn’t take it anymore. “Actually, I feel like eating a sandwich instead,” Anthony thought out loud, hoping Ian would take the hint. He stood up and made to take the plate from Ian but the other boy let out a small groan and was quick to grab Anthony’s wrist. Nails dug deep into flesh and Anthony cringed, feeling the contact rattle his careful reserve inside of him.  
  
“J-Just... let me do this, okay?” Ian sighed, looking up at Anthony with eyes so deep blue that he was afraid he would fall into. Ian released his hold and Anthony frowned, the laces of contact licking gently underneath his skin. “I can do it, alright?”  
  
Anthony sat back down and looked on wearily, biting his tongue as more dangling noodles fell than stayed on the shaking fork. Sometimes Ian could be so stubborn. Anthony felt just as frustrated as Ian looked, initially expecting an uneventful dinner with Ian so his mind could wander away from the afternoon. But to see this Ian, the angry and bitter one, struck an uncomfortable chord in Anthony’s chest and he averted his gaze, not wanting to fight all the urges within him to do _something_.  
  
Suddenly, Ian cursed loudly in irritation and in that short amount of time, he had almost upturned the table with the plate spinning off and clattering silently to the carpet. His eyes were scrunched tight and his face fiery red from overexertion.  
  
“Ian, Ian,” Anthony reassured, taking Ian’s rigid wrists and trying to stop him from bashing the table again. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”  
  
Ian released a sharp breath and Anthony could see the violent tears forming. “No it’s not!” he spat, ripping his hands back to his own chest. Anthony’s hands hovered over Ian’s, sliding his knuckles against white hot ones. “I can’t move anything right. It’s not fucking okay, alright?” Ian turned his head away, sniffing, and whispered heavily, “This is so stupid.”  
  
Anthony sighed, misery and regret swimming in the atmosphere around them. He didn’t know what to do. He clenched his own fists, letting the palm of his hand turn raw as he used all his will to stop from doing what his body wished him to do. Makayla’s words had caught up with him and every action, every look, every thought that processed through Anthony’s mind now was going through a filter. He could not trust himself anymore.  
  
Anthony decided and bent down, avoiding Ian’s eyes. “I’ll clean this up and make some sandwiches.”  
  
There were a few moments of silence with just their breaths filling the emptiness. Anthony saw from the corner of his eye Ian wiping vigorously at his face with trembling hands and then planting his half clenched fingers onto his lap. He looked back at the task at hand, again ignoring the urge to do anything, going on with picking up the greasy noodles off the floor.  
  
“I don’t want a sandwich,” Ian said quietly, roaring the next words when Anthony continued on, pretending not to hear because he didn’t know what to do, “ _I don’t want a_ _goddamn sandwich!_ ”  
  
Ian fell to a kneel, his legs jutting out at an awkward angle all over the mess strewn on the floor. He grabbed the plate from Anthony’s hands and let it bounce away behind him.  
  
“What the hell?” Anthony cried, starting at Ian’s sudden actions. Ian stared at Anthony long and hard for a second with eyes that struck hot blue lightning right through the other, cheeks flushed with an angry pink that spread violently to his ears. Anthony made to grab Ian, hold him up again off the floor but he was pushed roughly back on the chest. His mouth gaped open as he sat back on the heels of his palms. “Hey! What’s the fuck's the matter with you?”  
  
“ _Nothing_ ,” Ian seethed through gritted teeth. “I can do this myself. I’m not entirely useless.” Then he started trying to clean the mess, raking the carpet with sharp fingers. Anthony opened his mouth to stop Ian but one look at this deranged boy, rocking back and forth, picking up hardly anything, brought Anthony to a choking caution. It scared him, the way Ian was acting right now.  
  
“Ian... stop it,” Anthony managed to say, coming in closer and trying to catch Ian’s hands that struggled away from his. Worry gripped Anthony’s throat and he tried to swallow, torn on what to do again. Ian growled when all he managed to do was coat his hands with grease, pulling at his hair in blazing frustration. “Stop that, Ian. You need to calm down—”  
  
Anthony cried when a hard fist connected with his jaw and he stumbled backwards, his breath escaping his lungs too fast. “ _Fuck!”_ he yelled, pain throbbing along his cheek. He stood up, caressing his chin and looking down angrily at Ian. What had Anthony done? “Shit! What the hell was that for?”  
  
Something in the vehement look Ian had unsettled Anthony and a flash of images bombarded his vision: Ian staring heatedly at him, daggers on the tip of his tongue and eyes so stricken with remorse and angry fire that it burned to remember. It was the same look Ian had on now as he staggered, standing up as well.  
  
"You tell me," Ian spat, knuckles white as he gripped onto the chair beside him. Ian was exhausted and Anthony could see his knees quivering from just standing. "Since you're so good at it and all."  
  
"Tell you _what?_ " Anthony asked, scowling at the pain that throbbed in his face and at the situation, seeing an inkling of where this was heading. "What the fuck, man? Why'd you do that?"  
  
"Fuck you, Anthony," Ian snarled, the hand by his side shook violently. "Fuck you and your little secrets." He took a deep breath and clenched his fists.  
  
"What _secrets,_ Ian?" Anthony asked again, anger welling up past the calm that he forcibly tried to keep. "God, I tell you every--"  
  
"Oh yeah, you do, _buddy,_ " Ian interrupted, "That's why I'm so happy for the two of you. So _fucking_ happy.” Ian huffed at the hand at his side shaking erratically. “ _Goddamnit!_ ” And he punched an intense trembling fist against his thigh, forehead crinkling as eyes watered.  
  
“This is about Makayla,” Anthony realized.  
  
“No shit,” Ian growled and rubbed a hand over his face. He sighed shakily, shoulders slumping forward.  
  
Anthony regarded Ian with sad eyes, his pain dribbling away forgotten. He tried to explain, “Look, I didn’t know she was going to do that. I never even knew that’s what she wanted. I swear, Ian.”  
  
“Sure, whatever, man.” Ian turned his back to Anthony, breathing through clenched teeth. “See if I give a shit.”  
  
“Besides, we’re...” he started but stopped. Anthony furrowed his brows, angrily confused but curious as well about exactly what Ian wanted. “What’s your problem? Why are you so pissed?”  
  
“Whatever,” he said again over his shoulder, “You and Makayla can do what you want.”  
  
“Geez, Ian. You don’t think I would’ve asked you first about something like this?” Anthony put a hand on Ian’s shoulder. He wondered if Ian remembered this same conversation only a few months ago. “And I did, Ian, before... before all of this."  
  
Ian shrugged Anthony’s hand off. “Yeah, right.”  
  
“What’s the deal?” Anthony asked, feeling more restless and exasperated. What the hell did Ian want from him? “It’s not like she hasn’t lived with us before. She lived here for a few weeks and nothing changed. What could be different about it this time, huh?” He bit his lip, racking his mind of a reason to Ian's outburst. "Is it 'cause you still like her, man? Is that why?"  
  
"What the hell?" Ian whipped his head back. "Is that what you think?"  
  
"Well, is it?"  
  
Ian didn’t answer and looked away. Anthony stared down at his neck, finding it slumped forward even more.  
  
”No,” he finally managed to say, quiet and defeated, turning his head around again to look at Anthony. “No,” he repeated, “I-I’m just... I don’t know. I guess, I’m just messed up right now.” Anthony heard him sigh and shrug and all the unprecedented anger seemed to dissipate. “I’m sorry, man. About your jaw. I was out of line.”  
  
Anthony blinked, expecting something other than such an easy apology. “What’s bothering you, Ian?” He took a step forward. “I’m trying to understand... Is it..? Would you hate us being together that much?” he asked quiet and focused, wanting to know and not understanding who exactly ‘us’ was.  
  
“I never said that,” Ian replied, looking weary now that he had calmed, “You... you really like her, right? It shouldn’t matter what I think.”  
  
They stared at each other and Anthony didn’t want to answer. Something in Ian’s dejected pleading eyes called for words; words that Anthony was afraid to say and shouldn’t. He bit his tongue and cleared his mind again. It was all a misunderstanding with Anthony just wanting what wasn’t there. The last time he dared to think something like that, it ended with the screeching of metal and the impossible heavy thump of a limp body.  
  
Ian let out a sigh, eyes breaking the gaze and an atmosphere of false security fell between them. “If you two want to move in together,” Ian said after, quiet, “don’t let me stop you.”  
  
He stumbled to walk away and a wave of eerily familiarity washed through Anthony’s blood. He closed his eyes to the blinding memory that brought in sounds and feelings that had come from the forgotten depths of his mind. Dread and imminent fear stroked the fringes of his thoughts as he remembered Ian walking away from him, words forming but lost to the series of events following.  
  
He suddenly reached out a frightening hand towards Ian, a blur of commotion surrounding his vision. Anthony thought he could save him this time and have it end a different way. And as his fingers felt real warm skin, the illusion dissipated and he saw, they were not outside. There were no cars waiting in the intersection. No drizzling cold mist that coated the foggy cement with ice. Ian wasn’t ten feet in front of him, spiteful and mad. And there wasn’t an impatient driver turning left.  
  
Instead, Ian’s body was real and it pressed up against him solid and breathing, almost knocking both of them backwards.  
  
"What the..?" Ian spoke and Anthony let go quick, like he was burned, feeling fooled and embarrassed and not seeing the confused azure eyes.  
  
“Looked like you were going to fall on your ass,” he mumbled the excuse pathetically and swallowed, walking around Ian to the kitchen for lack of what else to do. “You shouldn’t be walking.” Their shoulders brushed dangerously.  
  
They didn’t say anything more, too absorbed in their own thoughts. Something stirred ugly and beautiful between them and both of them felt it, saw it, but couldn’t understand it.  
  
Anthony cleared his throat, hands on the counter with his back to Ian and head looking up in case these stupid unreasonable tears fell. “Um...f-forget about the mess,” he said, forcing a grin, “L-Let’s just order pizza, yeah? I don’t want that sandwich either.”  
  
  
  
The night was quiet. Even the rare sound of cars driving past didn’t make up for the stillness that entered the house.  
  
Anthony hadn't come to bed and instead was sleeping in his own room. The silence rang loud in his ear and it wasn't until tonight, with his bed feeling too big for him, that Ian realized how lonely he was by himself. It didn't feel alright.  
  
Today was a strange day and Ian clenched his fists tight, letting the struggle and pain act like punishment for what he had done. He shouldn't have been angry at Anthony because he had no reason to. What right did Ian have to whether Makayla moved in or not? They lived in the same house, shared the same things and worked together but this business with Makayla, it is all Anthony's. He needed to put these feelings of hostility and irrational unfairness aside and let Anthony live his own life.  
  
Ian sighed. He regretted almost everything; from the moment Anthony entered the room to the punch that pulsated hot on his knuckles. For that second, Ian didn't understand himself at all. He had had days right after the accident where he felt himself lost behind a wall blocking out everything that was essentially himself. But lately, it seemed he was swimming in thoughts and reflexes from a person who he wasn't familiar with anymore. He felt like he had jumped across the wall instead of breaking it piece by piece, not letting the old Ian trickle in with careful order.  
  
Ian realized these feelings, gripped them in his hands but they were a mess and today he had let one slip out of his rigid fingers. And here he was now, alone, regretful, embarrassed and feeling like he had ended something good.  
  
What was wrong with him? Ian asked himself this as he rolled to his side and faced the wall, burying his body within the covers. The shadows danced around the room, mocking him with their ambiguous shapes and Ian shut his eyes, afraid the black would squeeze out his tears.  
  
The sound of the door opening brought him out of his stupor and he froze, knowing Anthony was there. His presence sent thrills and dreadful anticipation throughout his body and Ian decided to pretend to be asleep. He didn't trust himself anymore, scared that another fight would surface if he was awake. What did Anthony want?  
  
"Ian?"  
  
The pad of quiet feet on carpet made Ian nervous but he forced himself to breathe evenly. Through slitted eyes, Ian saw the shadows on the wall being blocked by Anthony's silhouette and there was something tired and weary in his form. Their breaths matched but were broken when the edge of the bed sunk in and the air in Ian's throat disappeared.  
  
Nothing happened for a while. Ian watched the dark figure projected on his wall; it didn’t move, just stayed there slumped and solid. He wondered if Anthony had maybe fallen asleep or maybe he wasn't even there and it was just Ian dreaming too real with his heart pounding so loud that he was afraid the whole world would hear.  
  
But then Anthony's voice broke the silent thickness around them with the smallest of whispers, "Ian... Do you remember?"  
  
He didn't answer; feeling like Anthony was talking to himself. Another long silence gripped the night between them.  
  
"I remember everything," Anthony sighed and finally the shadow moved.  
  
Anthony's words were so quiet that if Ian breathed too much, he would miss them.  
  
A chuckle escaped from Anthony. "This is just like when you were in that damn coma. I kind of missed that," another sigh, "Did you hear anything?" Softer this time, "Can you even hear me now?"  
  
Ian let out a loud snore, sighing dramatically to reinforce the image of him asleep.  
  
"Guess not," he said and Ian felt the tremor of a hand ghosting over his shoulder, close but not quite there yet. "You're an asshole, y'know that? Biggest douche in the world."  
  
Ian bit back his retort.  
  
"You should have looked before crossing the street." Anthony's hand rested on the base of Ian's neck, the touch feathery soft and hesitant. "But nope, you just had to run off, like a freakin' dog. I'm never going on another jog with you unless you're on a leash."  
  
A car drove past and Anthony's shadow stretched long along the wall until settling again in its original slumped stature. Ian tried to remember, to think again, of jogging, of that day and why Anthony was talking to him about it now. Why, right at this moment, when he had been so tight-lipped all through the past months? And the way he was talking, so free and unrestricted and how the sound of his voice finally matched the way it was before.  
  
"You were so pissed, man," Anthony continued, still whispering, "I just wanted to know for sure if... if...” He stopped and grew quiet again. "Do you remember, Ian?"  
  
He went on without an answer, voice growing steady and louder, "I told you that I was thinking seriously about moving out with Makayla.”  
  
Ian's mind went elsewhere then. The pitter-patter of footsteps across hard frosty cement and the way their breaths flew into their faces, adding to the fog that hovered over the streets on a too cold winter afternoon.  
  
Anthony was beside him, gaze hard and concentrated in front. And Ian had been thinking about Makayla and how the two of them were so close now, to a point that Ian saw it going ahead of him and away to something that would mean time and distance from Anthony.  
  
It had scared him, terrified him, and as he had looked over at Anthony, he wondered when these feelings that weren't supposed to exist would go away. Because they made him do things and feel things that he wasn't proud of and he knew he should be disgusted and repulsed, but he wasn't.  
  
Ian remembered that he had the audacity to wish Anthony might feel the same way about him too.  
  
Anthony’s low voice brought him back to the dark hushed room. “We never really talked about it,” he said, “and you would always just... wave it off, I guess. It was probably the only thing you were quiet about.”  
  
The hand tensed and Anthony sucked in a breath that heaved his shoulders high. Then the shadow drooped further down, head hanging low.  
  
“God,” Anthony whispered, “You were gone for three fucking weeks... they told me to talk to you. That maybe you’d hear me.”  
  
Ian furrowed his brows, trying to follow Anthony’s train of scattered thoughts.  
  
“Probably sounded like an idiot. Rambling to some unconscious vegetable,” Anthony laughed a little but sobered up quick. The time between Anthony speaking was filled with a deep and long contemplative silence that made Ian itch to turn around and just demand Anthony to talk. But he knew his friend wouldn’t speak to him if he knew Ian was listening.  
  
“Did you really forget, Ian?” The question was said under breath and it didn’t stay in the walls for long. “You were trying. But I knew you didn’t like it... I don’t know, I thought maybe you felt—I mean... I guess... I just wanted a reason not to.” The skin on Ian’s neck prickled with heat. “I knew you didn’t want me to move out with her.”  
  
Ian remembered now, like the morning light creeping over closed lids. He heard in his head as he told Anthony that it was cool. That he was happy that the two of them were getting serious and that he was proud his friend had found a girl he wanted to be with.  
  
But those were all lies.  
  
They had run two blocks with Ian ahead of him, not wanting Anthony near him when he was so devastated inside. And Anthony had kept talking about moving, about where they would live, how much money it would cost, and how for that moment, it seemed like the thing to do. There was doubt, Anthony had admitted, and he had asked Ian what he thought about it.  
  
“Do what you gotta do, man,” Ian had said, legs pumping harder when Anthony was able to keep in pace with him. The cement was patchy white and the setting sun was just painting the horizon with coral.  
  
“But do you think it’s a good idea?” Anthony asked between huffs of breathlessness. “I mean... then, you got the Smosh stuff... and...”  
  
Ian had to bite his tongue and keep his fists swinging by his side. “Yeah, sure,” he said with contempt, “Don’t worry about me, bro. Just do whatever.”  
  
“Hey, whoa,” Anthony called, reaching a hand out to stop Ian from running any further. They stopped a few feet from the curb. It was five in the evening and cars were busy in motion with exhaust mingling with the light drizzling haze. “You’re a part of this as much as I am. This isn’t only between me and Makayla. You’re in it, too.”  
  
Ian looked at Anthony, his hands on his side as he tried to catch his breath. “Oh yeah?” he asked, feeling sarcasm creeping up into his voice. “I’m part of this, too?”  
  
“Yeah,” Anthony confirmed, “If I’m moving out then we have to talk about how we’re gonna deal with the house and—“  
  
“Uh huh, cool stuff, dude,” Ian cut in and making to start running again but Anthony caught the sleeve of his shirt. He felt the burning in his eyes and blinked, hoping it would go away.  
  
“Ian, stop—”  
  
“Look, can we just talk about this later?” Ian shook off Anthony’s hand. It was hard keeping himself calm when he felt like Anthony had just stabbed him in the gut with a double edged sword. He didn’t want to say his next words, but they came out on their own accord, “I really don’t care what you do.”  
  
“What?” Anthony gave Ian a confused look, exasperation in his voice. “Dude, I’ve been trying to talk to you about this forever but you’re always, just—”  
  
“Okay,” Ian sighed, trying to dispel is anger aside. "Fine." But as he looked at Anthony, with his hair troubled in a mess with skin glistening in icy sweat, and talking about leaving, something twisted hot agony in the pit of Ian’s core. “Okay, let’s talk.”  
  
They looked at each other, the invitation to discuss feeling untouchable now that it was out. Anthony’s mouth opened and closed several times before he scrunched his brows together in a question. The pink light became deep gold and the mist began to settle around them.  
  
“Do you...” he started, “Do you have a problem with this?” Ian moved his legs side to side, fidgeting because he didn’t know how to still himself from the agitation. “Because if you do, Ian, maybe you should tell me.”  
  
“No, I don’t,” Ian said short, again, “I don’t.”  
  
“Well, I think you do, man.”  
  
“What?” Ian shrugged his hands in front of him, “What do you want me to say?”  
  
“Just, if you’ve got a problem with this. I wanna know.”  
  
“I don’t,” Ian reiterated, finding his resolve leaving him slowly because he really just wanted to get out and run. He didn’t want to think about Anthony gone with Makayla and he definitely didn’t want to talk about it being reality. “If you want to go and live with Makayla, go live with her. There’s no problem with that.”  
  
“Are you sure?” Anthony asked with something pleading in his eyes.  
  
“Yeah!” Ian exasperated, letting out a false laugh, “It’s like you don’t believe me or something.”  
  
“Alright,” his friend stuck his hands in his pockets, nodding and staring at his feet. “Alright, then... I guess that’s that.”  
  
A tense quiet surrounded them and Ian shivered, the disappearing sun taking away its warmth and making the world dark. He felt a sense of betrayal settle in him that shouldn’t be there. There was no reason or right for it to form. But nevertheless, Ian felt it and he struggled hard not to let it dictate him.  
  
“So that’s it,” Ian said, his breathing coming out fast, “That’s it. You’re going to live with her.”  
  
Anthony looked up, not saying anything, just stared at Ian. There was a sort of expectation behind those chocolate eyes but Ian didn’t see it then, only saw Anthony walking out the door and away from him. He had berated himself for acting like a girl who was afraid her boyfriend was going to leave her for someone else.  
  
“Really? That’s it?” Ian asked after a while, wanting something he shouldn’t, “You’re just going to get up and go live with her? Y-You’ve only been dating for a year!”  
  
Anthony was still looking at him. “What’s wrong with that?”  
  
“O-Oh, I don’t know?” Ian choked out in annoyance, “The fact that you hardly know this girl and now you want to go and leave after we’ve—”  
  
Ian stopped himself. They’ve known each other for a good decade and more, lived together for a couple of years and their friendship contained so much sweat and blood, time and work and, if Ian dared to say, love. He took Anthony’s decision to live with his girlfriend as an insult; as if this one girl who hadn’t even known his best friend a quarter as much as Ian did could so easily take him away in a flash.  
  
Ian shook his head, knowing again that he was taking things too far and too serious. He was letting his inappropriate feelings take over. “Never mind,” he said, turning around and walking the few steps towards the intersection. It was getting dark and the temperature dropped several degrees.  
  
He punched the button to cross the street. Anthony was right on his heels, that same troubling expression on his face.  
  
“Hey, what’s up with that?” he asked and stood in front of him. Ian didn’t want to look at Anthony, afraid if he did, he would start acting up again. “I thought you said it wasn’t a problem. Now you’ve changed your mind? What is it? Tell me, Ian.”  
  
“Nothing,” Ian seethed and squinted, trying to see through the fog. But Anthony didn’t rest and came in closer, demanding an explanation when Ian didn’t feel at all like answering. “It’s _nothing,_ alright? Just _leave it_.”  
  
Ian hit the button a couple of more times and looked at the cars filling up the intersection. The lights weren’t changing fast enough and Anthony was getting up in his face. “Ian, if you don’t want me to move in with her, just tell me. Tell me if that’s what you want.”  
  
The light changed and the bright white of the pedestrian walking-man shone like a beacon for escape but Anthony blocked him with two hands on his shoulders and a face so close it was all Ian could see.  
  
“We’re best friends, right? You can tell me, if that’s how you feel,” Anthony said these words slow and clear, “Ian.”

He had pushed those hands away, pushed them down and hated how his shoulders tingled with a million electric pins. And when Anthony urged once him again, Ian had snapped.  
  
“What do _you_ think? I don’t, alright? Geez!” Ian admitted, his heart hammering hard and out of control, “Of course I don’t want you to move in with her.”  
  
There was relief in Anthony’s eyes and a twitching upturn of lips but at that time, Ian was confused and only heard disappointment when Anthony asked, “Why not?”  
  
“God, I-I don’t know...” he stammered, embarrassment flowering over his cheeks, “I just _don’t_ because I... I-I...” And Ian had walked around Anthony too fast for his friend to stop him because he was annoyed, almost slipping over the shimmering icy street. He didn’t want to explain because he was so tempted to tell the truth.  
  
“Ian, don’t walk away from me! Now you _have_ to tell me why, you stupid douche!” Anthony had called with a slight teasing tone. Ian had heard this and stopped for a split second, turning around with the truth so ready on his tongue and so angry at Anthony, not taking in the fact he was in the middle of the road. He was so taken aback by the sudden goofy knowing smile on Anthony’s face when he turned around.  
  
And in that one split second, so many things had happened.  
  
His life had been broken into a million pieces across grey asphalt then. And because in that same second, he had seen Anthony for the first time, not just as his best friend, but as someone who he would never stop loving and who might love him just as much.  
  
It was a thought, but it was thrown away too far and mangled.  
  
Ian was struck almost breathless by the memory. It somehow grounded him and came to him neat and conveniently. Everything came into order.  
  
He let this bit of knowledge settle within him, fill him up. Maybe, maybe, just maybe...  
  
“You were gunna tell me why, I think,” Anthony’s present voice was different and Ian mourned a little, “B-But t-then...” he choked, the tight fingers on Ian’s neck quivering, “T-Then a fucking white beamer ran you over.”  
  
Anthony’s next words crackled with heart wrenching depression, “I lost you that night,” he cried, air shuddering into his lungs, “I fucking lost you.”  
  
Ian opened his eyes fully, moving his head slightly back to look at Anthony. His grip dug deep into Ian’s skin and he had to touch those fingers, to remind Anthony that he was there.  
  
It was so dark and the street lamps stung Ian’s night-adjusted vision but the tears that pooled beneath Anthony’s lashes shone visible. Ian sat up, still holding onto Anthony’s shaking hand. His gaze was somewhere else, hard and far away, not in this room with Ian.  
  
“You died in my fucking arms, Ian,” Anthony sobbed with fists that clenched tight and painful and Ian’s hand had never been so steady as he wiped hot wetness from Anthony’s cheek. Anthony kept going, “You died, you died...And I-I couldn’t... I...”  
  
To see Anthony like this, it hurt tenfold more than waking up with broken bones and torn bruised skin. It was a hurt that reached deep and violent like a fissure in his heart.  
  
“Shh,” Ian coaxed and he didn’t know what to do. Anthony was so broken, so destroyed and Ian had never seen him this way before. It never crossed his mind how hurt Anthony was; how this affected his friend as much as it did himself. The wounds were there, just like how they decorated Ian’s body, only invisible on Anthony. “I’m right here, Anthony, right here,” he whispered, crushing their chests together as Ian took racking shoulders into his arms. “Shit, Anthony, I’m not dead. Anthony, Anthony.”  
  
And Ian couldn’t help but to cry too as Anthony held him, almost clawed at his back while he sobbed burning tears into Ian’s neck.  
  
“I’m still here,” Ian reassured, words muffled by the soft skin of Anthony’s shoulder.  
  
But he kept crying and saying, “So m-much blood... so much... I c-couldn’t... And t-then...”  
  
They were like that for a while, each heaving out breaths that had been held for too long and letting the shock and fear of what might have happened, what was so possible and so devastating, ease out as trails of salt water on flushed cheeks. And Ian wanted Anthony to shut up, to quiet down and just stop spewing out nonsense because Ian was right there with him and fine, blood in his arteries pumping a growing body. He wasn’t dead.  
  
He took Anthony’s fervent face firmly between his hands with his thumb constantly swiping away tears. And Ian covered Anthony’s mouth with his cheek, letting his lips whisper over and over again close to the other’s ear that he was right there, alive, and not dead. Anthony’s shaking and trembling slowed as Ian dared to press his mouth on the rough skin of his temple. Hot breath slid like liquid down Ian’s wet cheek.  
  
Heavy swallows and a weight that left Ian’s chest heavy and pained, urged him again to ghost a kiss against the curve of Anthony’s jaw, the spot where his angry fist had connected. To Ian, it was his apology for more than just swollen flesh but for other things too.  
  
The clutch on Ian’s back smoothed out when Ian grazed his lips boldly right on the corner of Anthony’s, tasting salt and honey at the same time. He felt invigorated, like he had just jumped from the highest skyscraper on earth and he could care less if he had a parachute or not. He only wanted to continue to fall and feel. He didn’t even think twice again as he let their lips touch, shuddering as something in his chest burst colours and piercing sensations.  
  
Anthony was completely still and quiet now and as Ian pulled away, opening his eyes, he searched for something to stop him, to tell him otherwise but he didn’t see any of that. He saw the fear but the apprehension too and Ian took it, using it as assurance.  
  
“I’m here,” Ian said softly and kissed him again, wanting so much for Anthony to kiss him back.  
  
And Anthony opened his mouth, a small shaky breath coming out. Ian was so scared now, suddenly terrified this was another mistake but Anthony titled his head so that their lips slid together closed and his hands moved slowly up Ian’s spine, sending running shivers. His lips were shaking too, with nervousness or panic, Ian didn’t know. But it gave him confidence again, to press further and want more. Ian wanted so much.  
  
He could taste the tears, feel them brush across the tip of his nose and the wetness was fresh in their mouths. A torrent of emotions ran through him as Anthony’s fingers dug into his shoulders, deepening the kiss when Ian moaned, tilting his head back.  
  
They laid back onto the bed, Anthony's body trembling slightly as he straddled Ian's legs with both hands on either side of his head. Their lips never stopped moving and Anthony's tears dripped heavy onto Ian's blazing cheekbones. They turned cool as they slid moist behind Ian's ears.  
  
And this was what he was missing. This, Ian knew as they breathed hard and wanting, was what filled the blank gaping holes in his memory. This friendship, this love, this connection; Anthony was what made Ian him. And Ian had lost Anthony that night too, to a world of constant fear and guilt. To a nightmare that Anthony probably dreamt over and over again, of losing his friend.  
  
A strangled sob escaped out of Anthony, almost breaking the kiss but Ian pulled him in again, pounding chest collapsed against pounding chest, taking the quivering lips with more force, more pressure, to show Anthony he really was right there.  
  
"Ian," Anthony cried between ragged breaths and Ian didn't give him another chance to speak, feeling his place only when their lips met.  
  
And Anthony was right; he had lost Ian that night too. But now, as Anthony sprawled his body over Ian's and he greedily felt every part of his friend, he knew. He knew that as their lips moved strong and hungry for each other, singing sweet relief, they had found each other.


	6. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian comes out of a coma caused by a car accident to find himself feeling like a stranger in his own life. Anthony struggles with the idea that his best friend had almost died.

  
“Right here?”

“Yeah.”

“What are you doing?”

“Relax, Anthony, I just wanna check if the blood’s still here.”

“What the hell? That’s disgusting.”

“We don’t want people making clones of you, now do we?”

“Yeah, ‘cause that’s what you would do if you saw some questionable red stains in the in the grass.”

“Shut up.”

They were at the park after a long night of editing with no sleep and holding their breakfasts in their hands: morning burritos from a nearby fast food restaurant. Ian had forced Anthony to stop, begged him, practically leaping out of the car before Anthony could brake. The horizon was periwinkle blue with orange squeezing out of the tips of housetops.

“C’mon, I’m tired and this is dumb,” Anthony said, wanting to be home in bed but following Ian as he walked in circles with his head almost parallel to the ground, searching. “Let’s just sit on the bench over there.”

“In a minute,” Ian said and he took out his phone, using the white light to shine over the evergreen grass. “I want a picture of it. And it's not dumb!”

“Whatever, Ian. You could've have taken it yesterday.” Anthony stifled a yawn, ignoring the glare from Ian. They had been filming all day yesterday, lazing in the mild June weather threatening to blast into the dry heat of summer, and doing last minute things because the regular regime of producing weekly videos was hard to get used to again. It took Anthony more time now to edit than it did six months ago. He had, in a selfish way, missed the days when Ian would be the reason for their hiatus, just because it meant he didn’t need to stress over trivial things like Smosh. It gave them time for other things. “I’ll be over here.”

He sat down and watched Ian in the half darkness, yawning several times and blinking away the sleep that wiggled into his vision. The lukewarm burrito in his hand looking less and less important as the need to rest took over hunger. But he kept his eyes open, waiting for Ian as he stomped around in the grass, frustration under his breath.

“You find it, man?” Anthony asked when Ian plopped down beside him, food eaten and wrapper balled in his fist. Ian shook his head and sighed defeated, resting his cheek against Anthony’s shoulder.

"Oh well." He felt Ian’s hand along his forearm, fingers splayed and smooth over his skin. “Man, your nose would not stop bleeding” Ian recalled, laughing, “We're lucky we got everything done.”

“Hey, it's your fault for hitting me in the face with that stupid sword,” Anthony laughed too, letting his chin sink into Ian’s thick hair. He closed his eyes and breathed, the warm smell of Ian filling him up. Anthony's whole body hummed with tingling agreement, basking in it and liking the warm body beside him. If life let him, he wouldn’t mind being frozen like this forever.

"Sorry," Ian apologized, grinning cheekily, “But it made a better scene, didn’t it?”

“Mm-hmm,” he agreed, feeling his tired mind drift away slowly. The unwrapped burrito fell from his grasp beside him.

A cool spring breeze picked up, fluttered around them and caressed the curves of their limbs with ribbons of softness. A sheet of rich golden light spilled over them, nudging the night away with beauty. Anthony felt Ian mold into him until he didn’t know whose hand was holding whose and whether it was his breath or Ian’s that came out in a long contented sigh.

Maybe if he wished hard enough, this moment could still and allow him to live in it for an eternity.

But, of course, Ian would decide to break the ease as he so often did. Ian sat up straight and let go a deep breath. Anthony’s shoulder felt suddenly extremely lonely. There was a troubling thoughtful expression chasing away Ian's smile.

“Two blocks from here,” Ian said simply, a finger pointing east and voice soft. “That’s where it happened… right?”

He turned his head to look at Anthony, like a child asking an innocent question, pleading for an answer.

Anthony hesitated, his gaze growing hard but he replied, “Yeah.”

Ian’s grip became tight as a contemplative look crossed over his face. The blue of his eyes looked almost weightless in the light of the rising sun. Anthony decided then, even though Ian hadn’t shaved and his hair was in a mess of array with sleep weighing him down, and even if he was speaking of things the two never really liked to think back on, his best friend still proved to be something more than beautiful. And it troubled Anthony to know Ian could so easy slip back into those moments of darkness.

“What’s up, man?” he whispered, prodding the pinching fingers to relax. “What’s on your mind?”

Ian bit his lip and turned to stare ahead again. It took a moment for him to speak, “On the road, before it happened… I was going to tell you that I… that…” Ian suggested, the words not coming out and his neck turning red, “ _You know._ ”

Anthony nodded and grinned knowingly. “Yeah?” He pressed his forehead against the side of Ian’s face, nudging his nose into the groove of Ian’s neck. He would never grow tired of the smell and feel of Ian. “Why are you bringing this up again?”

He felt Ian shrug. “I dunno,” he said, leaning back to allow more of him to Anthony. “I was just wondering… if that never happened… what _would’ve_ happened?”

Anthony let Ian’s thought weigh inside of his head for a minute, thinking of a response. “I’d probably still be with Makayla,” he said truthfully for once and again, he felt Ian’s fingers tighten around his. “But I’m not. So… whatever, Ian.”

Ian nodded as silence enveloped them. The other boy sighed several times and Anthony had to resist rolling his eyes, knowing Ian was still thinking about the time before.

He didn't blame Ian though. Everything that had happened to Ian, to them, was too hard and too good to forget. The tragedy of the situation was soothed over by the slow healing that couldn't come sooner. It was a long process and there had been days when the idea of together, of being more than friends, of letting these strong feelings run wild, scared both of them.

But they would always find each other and pull each other together again because Ian had this tight, never-letting-go hold on Anthony's growing heart and Anthony didn't want it beating in any other hand.

“So…” Ian started curiously, breaking the quiet, “How’s Makayla?”

Anthony pushed Ian lightly, a little exasperated and picked up the forgotten burrito. “We saw her last week remember?” he explained, tossing the now cold food up and down in his free hand. He was too tired to eat. “She’s going on that backpacking trip to Europe or something.”

“Right, right,” Ian said absently and Anthony felt the other shift his eyes towards him.

He tossed the burrito at Ian, earning him a yelp of surprise. “Spit it out, Ian. What do you really wanna ask me?”

“Oh, it’s nothing.” He waved Anthony away, throwing the burrito back. “Never mind.”

Anthony huffed, smacking his friend repeatedly atop the head with the poor burrito. “Bitch, we’re not doing this again. You better tell me, or I swear, I’ll—”

“Okay, okay!” Ian cried, shielding himself from Anthony’s attack. He protested, saying burritos were food, not weapons. They laughed together, mouths wide open and loud, and Anthony waited until the moment passed and Ian grew serious again. He shrugged, frowning and picking at the hem of his shorts. Anthony squeezed his hand, urging him to go on. Finally, when the sun was completely out of the shadows of the night and glared blazingly upon them, Ian asked, “Did you… love her?”

Anthony looked at Ian whose eyes were closed in a cringe, as if Anthony was going to smack or hurt him again. He sighed and nodded solemnly to himself. He would answer Ian this time.

“I did.”

Ian’s tense shoulders fell and his fingers around Anthony’s loosened. “Oh…” he mumbled, defeat and sadness swimming in his eyes. Anthony pulled his friend closer, not agreeing to the sudden far distance between them.

They had been through so much together. From Anthony feeling helpless when Ian had flown in the sky and landed in a heap fifteen feet away, to seeing how everyday Ian would try again and again and never give up; it shook Anthony’s core with amazement because he had never been so proud and so glad to love somebody so strong.

“But that was a long time ago…” Anthony began and pressed his lips to Ian’s in reassurance, taking them forceful and hungry even though Ian refused a little bit. He smirked and whispered, sultrily, “… And _before_ I jerked you off in the hospital, remember?”

Anthony didn’t see, but felt Ian blush hot and fight not to laugh as their lips met again. Warmth suffused from the middle of Anthony’s chest down to the tips of his toes, swirling and burning as he let his body melt against Ian’s. He let a hand wander to the inside of Ian’s thigh, rubbing circles and he smiled into the kiss when Ian moaned. His heart beat full and strong and Anthony felt Ian's beat exactly the same.

They pulled away just when Ian started to kiss back. His mouth gaped open incoherently and tried again to catch Anthony’s mouth. But Anthony moved, smiling goofy and absorbing every detail of Ian's sunlit face.

And now he was glad everything was better than what it was before. They were better friends, lovers now and Anthony was unafraid of almost anything as long as Ian was by his side. Anthony didn’t have to settle to keeping Ian an arms length away. He didn't have to be afraid to want Ian and to love him. And the myriad of conflicting and confusing emotions, they fell into a place of calm and sense. Anthony was happy with what they had now, happier than ever before.

“So,” he whispered teasingly, taking Ian’s hand and feeling so incredibly bold and _exactly_ where he needed to be. Ian raised a questioning brow, leaning in close. “Did you love me?”

And Ian smiled a smile Anthony would never ever forget.

“Yeah,” he said, “Yeah, I do."  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N from the year 2020: Thank you for reading this! It was my first chaptered fic for the Smosh fandom and I was very proud of it. I was still in college while I was writing this and now I'm 9 years older but still feel the same pride I felt back then, if not more. This story is like a tribute to the amazing people (turned friends) I made in the fandom. I'll always remember our late night Skype convos and sending each other packages through the mail and the beautiful little oasis that was the Ianthony LJ community. We are all older and grown now. It was such a pleasure to be a part of such a wonderful community. 
> 
> There is a side story that you can read [here called "Reason".](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23058460)


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